They Didn't Train Me for This
by Baloo
Summary: [AU] He was sent to capture and bring in the rogue, 452, but unforeseen complications changed everything. Feline DNA...pheromones...residual feelings? What’s a genetically engineered supersoldier to do? And what are two of them to do, together? M/A
1. Chapter 1

**Timeline:** Somewhere early in season 1. 'Pollo Loco' never happened, and an adequate amount of time has passed since Max's last heat cycle. 

**Spoilers:** 'The Berrisford Agenda' – Everything Alec recalled from that mission did happen. 

**A/N:** This is not so much AU as a splitting of the timeline following the first few episodes of season 1. The M/L relationship is still pretty much platonic, and it's not going to go any further. 

  
  
  
**

They Didn't Train Me for This 

**

  
_- Chapter 1 -_

  
  
494 was anxious, in a way that he hadn't felt for a mission – well, ever before. Every pulse of bass of the music that played through the crowded club seemed to strike the very wrong chord with him. His gaze flitted about far too often, searching the ranks of faces within the room, something he should **not** have been doing if he wanted to remain inconspicuous – which he did, for the sake of his mission. His heart pounded just a little too fast and he could **feel** the blood that rushed furiously through his veins. 

He was – distracted. And being from Manticore, there was one thing he knew about distractions – they got you killed. Or worse. At the thought of that 'worse', a deep ache claimed his chest, and he was filled with the near overwhelming urge to order something harder than the club soda he was currently nursing. 

But he fought them off – the feelings, the thoughts, the distracting sensations within himself – and forced his focus back to the task at hand. He could not afford alcohol and its effects right now. His mind had to remain sharp, and his reflexes at their peak. 

The anxiety, he told himself, was just due to the importance of this mission in terms of his future. After all, this was his first assignment since… His first assignment in a year. The first one since his extended visit to Psy Ops, and they were watching him, evaluating him, trying to decide whether he was still 'salvageable'. Not right now, of course, there was no observing during an away mission – but he provided regular, detailed reports, when plausible for him to deliver them, and upon his return he would be thoroughly debriefed. The last report was two days ago; they knew he was in Seattle, that he had tracked the subject down to this location. But they didn't know the rest just yet – where she worked, who were her acquaintances, whether she had contact with any of the other escapees. Well actually, he didn't know that last part yet either, though from everything he'd seen, he was led to believe she did not. 

But that didn't matter, not really. His mission was to bring her in, and everything else, superfluous. This would be the last day of observation, he'd decided, and the first opportunity he got to catch her alone and off-guard, he'd sedate her with the tranquilizer gun he'd been provided, and then take her back to Manticore. And then they'd put a nice big checkmark by his name, a good-to-go clearance, so he could be put back on regular rotation and not have to worry about sneezing too hard and being dragged back to Psy Ops for 'further evaluation'. Whatever happened, he was **not** going back there – not if he could help it. 

He raised his glass, sipping the bland liquid, as his idle eyes skimmed over the scene. Then he spotted her, just as she came through the entrance. She had two of her friends with her, a beautiful black woman named Original Cindy – the oddest name he had ever encountered during his limited experiences on the 'outside' – and a blond he had heard referred to as Kendra. 

She was stunning, the rogue, 452, but that was no surprise. After all, she was Manticore-made, had the seal of manufacture stamped on the back of her neck, just like him. Thus, when it came to X5's of the opposite gender – and usually, just women in general – that wouldn't even been enough to earn a second look from him. 

So why was he looking now? 

Because you're doing surveillance, you moron, he told himself. Try that **without** looking, and you'll figure it out. 

But that wasn't entirely true. In fact, if it were for the sake of surveillance, he would have managed to at least be a little more discreet about it. What he was doing was openly staring. Gawking, even. 

Fortunately, he wasn't the only one doing so as the lovely brunette sauntered past the entrance and further into the establishment. 

Unfortunately – that didn't seem to make him feel any better. 

Curly dark hair that flipped about her shoulders with every slight turn of her head; eyes that sparkled with mischief and promises unspoken; thick, lush lips that curved into the most tantalizing smile he'd ever seen, one that hinted at secrets known only to her – secrets he swore he would have been more than willing to kill to get at, though that might not have been saying much, coming from someone who'd been born and bred to such behavior. And that body… He was mesmerized by the sway of her hips, by how unconscious that provocative motion seemed. 

Why had he just noticed this all now? Why hadn't he realized the irresistible temptation before him earlier? He'd always known she was beautiful – sexy, even – but he'd never allowed himself to venture any further down that trail of thought. 

Those legs, that ass, those – 

Before he knew it, he was standing, abandoning both his drink and his discrete post – and only still discrete because there was another, more distracting sight occupying approximately half the patrons' attention in the club at the moment. 

What the fuck are you doing?! the voice of reason within his head demanded. Get your ass back into that chair before you're made! 

But his legs knew nothing of reason, and they continued to carry him forth to his target, who stood by some brave, but misguided, male who had snagged her in conversation before 494 could make his own arrival. The poor boy didn't have a chance, as the siren before him perused the scene, her disinterest with this potential suitor evident in those magnetic eyes. 

Now, was it just 494's imagination, his obviously malfunctioning brain reordering the information processed by his senses to produce distorted observations, or was she searching for something – for someone? And when that russet gaze connected with his, caressed his figure in careful appraisal, and those crimson lips curved into a smile so enticing, he knew there was no way he could turn away now, even if he'd wanted to – didn't she look like she'd found it? 

She was facing him fully by the time he reached her, neither having glanced away from the other's face the entire time. The other man had stopped speaking, coming to the realization that he didn't – nor ever did – have the attention of the voluptuous beauty that had consumed his own. 

He was crazy, abso-fucking-lutely insane for doing this, for not sticking within the parameters of the mission. And he was going to earn himself another trip to Psy Ops, only this time he probably wouldn't be coming back out. 

494 joined the pair, and never once looking away from his target – although he was beginning to think of the word in entirely different terms now – growled a "Beat it." 

"Who…?" There was surprise and annoyance in the unwelcome individual's voice, but all it took was one glance in the man's direction to send him scampering away, stumbling over his own feet in his haste. 

When 494 turned back to the goddess, he found her regarding him silently, head tilted slightly to one side, a certain sense of expectancy about her. 

A name, he realized. She was probably waiting for him to give her a name – as was custom on the outside. 

For a furious second, he wracked his brain, before he offered, "David." David Warner, that's what the I.D. in his wallet read. An identity established in the remote possibility that circumstances would require he make contact – which certainly wasn't the case now, he realized, while he also realized that he would have no adequate answer to give his superiors when they questioned him on this break of protocol. 

Her response, he knew before she even replied. Or rather, the verbal part he already knew; he did not know she was going to wrap a hand around the back of his neck and pull him down for the most utterly, torturously tantalizing kiss of his life. 

"Max." 

Her breathy voice wrapped around his senses, the sweet, honey taste of her lingering on his lips as she pulled away. But it was her scent – that heady aroma she exuded, the one that became more overwhelming when she closed that little distance between them – on which his attention lingered. 

And then he knew what was happening to him – to them. 

Oh no, not insanity at all. Not a malfunction in his brain. In fact, his brain was functioning and responding perfectly, according to present circumstances. Because he'd placed that scent – not recognized it, but placed it. 

Pheromones. 

452 was in heat. 

He'd heard of this, learned about it back at Manticore, but never had he had any personal experience with the phenomenon. In fact, very few male X's had ever been around a female while she was heat. Their cycles were carefully tracked and recorded, and the affected individual was removed and placed in solitary until she resumed control. 

They – at Manticore – had feared the effect the females' pheromones would have on the males, and thus adopted very careful procedures for such situations. Most of the males – 494 included – had tended to regard the prospect with great skepticism. After all, what sort of genetically engineered soldier designed and trained to maintain the ultimate sense of self-restraint at all times could let himself suddenly be led astray by his dick and a few measly strands of DNA? 

494 raised a hand to rest in 452's dark locks, bringing her forward for a long, thoroughly exploratory kiss that left both X5's breathless when they separated. 452 licked her lower lip in careful deliberation. One hand came up to his chest, lingering just over his pounding heart, and as their heated gazes locked, he resisted the urge to push her onto the nearest table – empty or otherwise – and take her right there. 

Apparently, this sort of genetically engineered soldier. 

"Yours…" she inquired in a husky voice, drawing up closer against him, "or mine?" 

He wrapped his free arm around her waist, pulling her in that last remaining fraction of an inch so both her legs straddled one of his, "Yours." 

They shared one more heated kiss, their display drawing the gazes of many, before she pulled away, grabbing his hand while guiding him along as they headed toward the exit. On the way out, they passed her friends, both of whom stared openly at the pair. The blond, Kendra, was the picture of envy as she gaped at the scene before her, while the other woman, Original Cindy, was a little more restrained. She stood, arms crossed over her chest, shaking her head faintly as her friend passed by with the slightest acknowledgement through a sly little smile. 

"Two of a kind," the woman muttered, and if it weren't for his enhanced hearing, 494 never would have heard it. 

Of course, he thought, with the last remaining portion of his mind not clouded over by desire, she had no idea how right she was. 

Nor did 452. 

  


_- to be continued -_

  
  
  
For those of you still waiting on the next part of 'Friction' – it is forthcoming! In fact, it would have been up today, but then I was distracted. Blame me not; blame the muse. 


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** You might notice some differences in both Max and Alec's personalities… Remember, this is Season 1 Max (the cool, bitchy, admirable Max), and Alec a year before 'Designate This', so a lot is different for them both. 

**A/A/N:** There still appears to be some confusion regarding the timeline. Like I said, this is very early in the season, before 'Pollo Loco'. Hence, Max was never reunited with Ben, and she would not mistake Alec for him. Also, for the person who pointed out that Max recognized Ben on sight in PL—that was only because she knew he'd be coming to the church, and because he could fit the description (as opposed to the guy in the morgue, who was Asian). Remember that she couldn't even recognize Zack on sight. As for the whole "is Ben still killing people?" thing—that's extraneous info right now. 

  
  
  


**They Didn't Train Me for This **

  
_- Chapter 2 -_

  
  
  
Sometime during their heated love-making – and she used the term as a euphemism, because the truth would have been far too crude – Max realized that 'David' was not quite who he claimed to be. Or rather, he had failed to inform of all that he really was. She had not been so far gone in her heat that she missed the telltale black lines that stood out starkly against the flesh of the back of his neck. Of course, it hadn't kept her from repeating the act of their 'lovemaking' once, or twice, or four times again during the night. Well, four times for him—five for her. Hey, what's a girl in heat to do? 

And if not already for the barcode, her lover's incredible stamina should have clued her into the fact that something was up… ahem, something aside from the obvious. Either way, she certainly knew now. 

She refused to believe it was mere coincidence they'd hooked up last night—well, of course, there was the fact that he was the most gorgeous creature she'd ever laid eyes on, and even if she hadn't been in heat, there was no guarantee she would not have jumped him still. But he was a transgenic, an X-series. And as far as she was aware, there were only two reasons he would be out here, out of Manticore. One, he'd escaped, gone AWOL. Two, he was on a mission. 

Since he was **not** one of her brothers – which she knew, not because she'd seen his barcode clearly enough to identify, or fail to identify it, but because none of her brothers were named 'David', and nor would they have any reason to lie about their names – and she sincerely doubted that any more escapes had occurred after that of '09 and the major security beef-up that would have inevitably followed, that left only option two open. 

A Manticore soldier just **happened** to run into her at her favorite after-work hangout? And somehow, she doubted Manticore condoned recreational sex – especially during missions – for its soldiers. Which meant they had not met by mere chance. 

So, all in all, that was how 494 awoke that morning to a sight that was both enticing and alarming. A beautiful, gloriously naked, pissed off – transgenic – female straddling his chest, with a gun pointed directly at the center of his forehead. 

And **his** gun too. 

It was a very delicate situation, and 494 responded with all the caution required of one in such circumstances. 

Giving a lazy, cocky smile, he ran both hands slowly up 452's thighs and drawled, "Baby, I've heard of kinky, but this really takes the cake." 

Common Verbal Usage – speak the language of the people. 

452 apparently did **not** appreciate the effort. The barrel of the weapon met with his flesh, and her trigger finger tightened minutely. 

Watching 'David' swallow visibly, Max suppressed a satisfied grin. "Don't call me 'baby'," she remarked sweetly. Never mind that he had called her that and a lot more last night – and that she had done the same with him. And never mind that she would never actually pull that trigger. Normally, she would have refused even to handle the gun, but when you wake up in bed with a genetically enhanced superhuman probably looking to kill you – or worse – your ethics gain a certain element of elasticity. 

Funny, if she hadn't seen his barcode, or realized anything out of the ordinary about him, her hands wouldn't have been wrapped around the handle of his **gun** right now. 

494 did as he was told, keeping his eyes trained on his captor the entire time. The plus side was that her heat cycle had ended and he was thinking much clearer now. The down side – so was she. 

"You wanna tell me what the problem is?" he asked in a vain attempt to diffuse the situation by faking ignorance. Who knows, maybe this was her standard 'morning after' reaction, and had nothing to do with him, per se. Women were strange like that sometimes, and genetically engineered women were no exception to the rule. 

"What makes you think there **is** a problem?" she inquired with equal innocence. She glanced down at her hands, her generous lips drawing into an 'o' of surprise, as if she'd just realized she was holding an instrument of death within their small confines. "Is it the fact that I'm aiming a gun at your head? Because, the thing is, I found it in your coat and I just figured you wouldn't mind if I had a closer look. You don't mind, do you?" 

In a surprisingly steady voice, 494 replied, "Closer to **you** – no. Closer to **me** – well, kind of." 

452 grinned, the same wicked expression he remembered from the previous night, the one that had tantalized him so then, and which brought to mind various other memories of the occasion. For that reason, it tantalized now too, though the reaction was hardly as appropriate at the present as it was last night. He was suddenly very glad she had chosen to seat herself on his chest, and not lower. 

Max leaned in slightly closer, her mouth turning down in the slightest frown that was actually more a pout, as she regarded the man below her. "Why, are you afraid that I might accidentally pull the trigger and blow a messy hold in your pretty little head? Cuz if that's what you're worried about—don't be. I actually excelled in armed combat back at Manticore." 

'David's' face remained devoid of recognition. "Manticore…" he said thoughtfully, his green eyes locking steadily with hers. "Some sort of summer camp you went to as a kid?" 

Oh, she had to give him points for effort – and for looking so damn good first thing in the morning – but she supposed she should have expected no less of one produced by Manticore. The place put Mattel to shame. 

"Give it up, 'baby'," Max sneered. "I saw your barcode; I know what you are." 

Seeing no further use for pretenses, the guise of innocence slipped from his features immediately. "Yeah, well, can't blame a soldier for trying, can you 452?" 

Her eyes narrowed, as she inquired, "How do you – " 

But she never got the chance to finish, because the next instant she was lying on her back, wrists pinned at either side of her head, and her – well, **his** – gun lying on the bed, two feet out of her reach. 

"Know your designation?" 494 finished. "I think you know, 452," he replied, staring down into those brown eyes that had mesmerized him so last night. But today, without the pheromones, and his mission back on his mind, along with the complications that had arisen with this turn of events, he wasn't going to let himself be drawn into that trap again. "I think you're smart enough to have figured it out." 

She stared back apprehensively, making no attempt to free herself. "You're here for me," she whispered. 

"Locate and apprehend the target," he confirmed, relaying his orders with mechanical stoicism. 

Her eyes narrowed, her cheeks flushing pink with barely contained rage. "And what about fucking the target?" she spat. "That part of the mission too, or was that just for fun?" 

494 frowned, digesting her words. "Neither. You were in heat." 

If anything, this seemed to fuel her outrage further. Her nostrils flared slightly as she demanded, "What, so that makes it alright?!" 

She acted as if he had a choice in the matter – she couldn't be **that** clueless, could she? But then he remembered that she seemed to have no contact with any of the other escapees, and she **had** been fairly young when her group escaped… 

Maybe she could be. But whose fault was that? 

"If you and your rug rat unit had bothered to stick around long enough to make it to your biology lessons, you would realize that last night wasn't a choice for me either. It was just my feline DNA reacting to yours. Besides," he sneered, releasing her arms and retrieving his gun as he pulled back to sit up on his knees, "I prefer blondes." 

Max stared up at him, open-mouthed and torn between jumping him to strangle him with her now free hands – and just jumping him. Because when he'd sat up, the motion caused the blanket that once afforded him what little sense of decency could be salvaged in a situation such as this, to fall off. 

Preferred blondes, did he? Well, little soldier didn't seem quite so sure of that as the rest of him. 

In the end the decision was made for her. "Don't even try it," he drawled, gazing down at her. "I have ten years of training on you – you wouldn't make it two steps before I knocked you back down." He didn't need to add how appealing the prospect of having to do so seemed right now. Heat and pheromones aside, the sight of a beautiful, naked woman lying beneath him, legs spread on either side of his, was enough to make any man's blood – soldier or no soldier – rush hotly through his veins. 

"What now?" she asked, eyeing him warily as he rose slowly from the bed and sought out his pants from amongst the mess on the floor. She was wrapping the bed sheet around herself in some misguided notion of modesty, as if he hadn't already seen all there was to see, touched, licked and kissed it a few times over… But at least she didn't seem to be preparing to attack him – or, if she was, she wasn't so transparent about it. "You taking me back there?" 

Right, like she was going to let him do **that**. But he surprised her by answering, "No. That would require me returning to Manticore – which I am not going to do." His pants were on, and he was dropping his shirt over his head now. 

Max could only watch him in open shock. "You're going AWOL?" She shook her head, "I thought you guys were trained to blind obedience. You know, 'loyalty', 'duty', 'discipline' and all that crap?" 

He gave her a look of faint amusement, as he placed his gun in the waist of his jeans and sat down at the edge of the bed to put on his shoes. "I followed the rules because it kept me alive, but I've never really been one to buy the propaganda." 

"But why now? Why the sudden change of heart?" Her eyebrows rose up to meet her hairline as a thought struck her, and a very disconcerting one at that. "It's not because… of last night, is it?" 

"Oh, don't flatter yourself," he replied, rolling his eyes. "As enjoyable as that was, I'm not going to abandon the only life I've ever known – **and** become a hunted man – over a roll in the sack." 

For a soldier, he wasn't very… soldierly, Max decided. She'd always figured that spending one's entire life within the walls of Manticore would make a person more disciplined, bland, and drone-like. Like a worker bee in a hive – nothing at all like the sarcastic, cocky, condescending jackass in front of her. 

"Then what?" she snapped, dragging herself out of the bed with the sheet firmly held in place. She didn't like talking to him like this – her in her bed, with nothing but that thin layer of cloth and her own anger and resentment to serve as protection. 

He stood as well, lowering his eyes to the ground as he spoke, "Let's just say that I already have one recent screw-up behind me, and another one so soon after is not going to help my case any." No, they were definitely going to want to study him, prod and poke him a bit, try to figure out what it was about him and his specific genetic makeup that made him prone to these unfavorable turnouts. 

"Oh darn, did I throw a little kink into your plans – ruin your chances for advancement?" she returned unsympathetically. 

494's gaze snapped up sharply, and he thought, maybe, he saw her flinch slightly as their eyes met. "We're not talking about advancements here," he ground out through a clenched jaw, "More like a trip back to Psy Ops, only with no return fare this time around." He didn't know why he was telling her this – she would never understand what he had been through, the fear he possessed at the very idea of going back there. Hell, she'd left when she was a kid, she probably didn't even know what Psy Ops was, what went on down there. "I'll get to trade up my days of being a soldier for the lovely end of biology experiment." And it was **her** fault that he couldn't risk returning to Manticore. Fuck, she just **had** to go into heat then – not a few days earlier, or a few days later, leaving him out of the whole mess. 

Her eyes seemed to soften minutely, as she regarded him. "Why would they send you to Psy Ops for what happened last night? If what you said is true, you couldn't help what happened, and anyone in your situation would've done the same." 

Straightening his back, he pushed aside all thoughts of his momentary display of weakness. "Yeah, but it doesn't happen often. In fact, almost never. When a female goes into heat, she's separated immediately from the rest of the unit and kept apart until her cycle ends. They don't want us… commingling, during the period, getting involved in extracurricular relationships… building attachments." Especially when a soldier had a track record for building 'attachments', and jeopardizing missions over them. He shrugged. "At the very least, they'll want to keep me under observation; see that everything's alright." 

"And at the worst?" she asked quietly, round brown eyes peering at him from a face haloed by curls of sable. 

He returned her gaze silently. "Look, 452 – " 

"Max," she interrupted. When he only stared at her blankly, she explained, "My name is Max, not 452. If you're going to address me, use my name." She tilted her head to one side, studying him. "I'm guessing 'David' isn't really yours." 

"I don't have a name," he answered curtly. "Just a designation." 

"Oh, of course," she said indulgently. "And what **is** your designation?" 

Hesitating, he wondered briefly whether this was a conversation he wanted to have. Sitting around trading names and designations, especially after what had happened after the previous night – he should be leaving now, going on his way with as much of a head start as he could manage so he might actually have a fair chance of escaping Manticore's clutches before the backup came looking for their missing soldier. 

Finally, he gave in, "494." 

He didn't miss the widening of her eyes, the slight paling of her caramel skin at his response; it was hard not to notice. "What?" 

"N-nothing," she shook her head, voice still a little unsteady. "It's just… I know someone with a very similar designation… 493." 

"Yeah," he shrugged his shoulders, plastering a bored expression on his face. "My twin; your fellow little traitor." 

Again, she was startled. "You know about him?" 

"I found out after the escape. I went through a lot of shit because of him – because of all of you." His eyes were nothing less than accusing as he stared at her. "They wanted to know if it was genetic; that because he escaped, I wouldn't try the same thing." 

452 – Max – grew defensive. "So? He didn't even know you existed. You can't blame him for wanting out of there, and actually doing something about it." 

494 snorted, turning away. "Sure I can, and I do." He heard the rustle of clothing behind him and knew she was getting dressed. Turning back toward her, his face met with a wadded ball of white linen that effectively obstructed his view. 

"Turn around," she snapped. 

"Oh please, I've seen all there is to see; I could describe you to a police sketch artist and they'd pick you up in less than five minutes." But despite his protests, he complied, pulling the sheet off his head in the process. 

She finished quickly, letting him know when it was 'safe' to turn back. Upon doing so, he found she looked no worse for the wear after the previous night's activities, except her hair was a little mussed and – oops – he seemed to have torn her shirt slightly at the seam in his haste to remove it earlier. 

"So, 494," she said, giving him an evaluative once-over, "If you're going into the 'real' world, you should have a name." 

"My I.D. says 'David'," he pointed out. 

"No," she shook her head, curly locks bouncing in protest. "That doesn't suit you." 

"Oh, it doesn't," he replied, cocking an eyebrow. Then he frowned slightly, puzzling over last night's memory. "Come to think of it, you never did call me that even once last night. Why's that?" 

Max shrugged uncomfortably. "Like I said – it doesn't suit you." She wasn't going to tell him that she'd seen his barcode long before that, right after they'd returned to her apartment, and she knew then the name he'd given her was a fake. Pretend ignorance; pretend she didn't know what he was until the morning after, when it was too late to go back and change what had happened. 

He crossed his arms over his chest, the picture of indifference. "So, you have a name in mind that **does** suit me?" 

She scowled at him, causing him to suppress a grin – she was adorable when she wasn't sexy or dangerous, although he wasn't sure that last two weren't synonymous when it came to the woman before him. 

"I'm thinking… Alec," she finally offered. 

"Alec?" 

"Yeah, as in smart-aleck." 

"Alec," he mouthed, letting the sound roll around in his head. He liked it. But he wasn't going to tell **her** that. Instead, he shed a disinterested glance in her direction. "Alec, David, 494… whatever. Hell, you can even call me God – since that's what you were screaming last night." 

  
_

- to be continued - 

_


	3. Chapter 3

  
  
  
**

They Didn't Train Me for This 

**

  
_- Chapter 3 -_

  
  
"Jackass! Complete and utter jerk!" 

Those were the first words out of Max's mouth after her overnight visitor left her apartment. Actually, the door hadn't quite closed behind him at the time, and what with his enhanced transgenic hearing and all, he should have heard anyway. Hopefully. 

She was still seething and muttering obscenities while steadily wearing down a path in the small living room when Kendra came sailing through the front door. The other woman stopped as she observed the scene, arms crossing under her chest, mild amusement flickering across her face. 

"Doctor Gorgeous is gone, I take it." 

Max shot her a look of confusion mingled with unveiled resentment and rage. "Doctor?" There was no need to question the 'Gorgeous' part. 

"Yeah, well," her roommate smirked, "what with the way he had his tongue jammed down your throat last night at the Crash, I figured he was checking out your tonsils." 

That earned a slight snort. If that were the case, they must have gone to med school together – she'd done her part too. "Yeah, he's gone." She paused in her pacing and gave her friend a cursory once-over. "And where have you been?" 

Kendra stifled a yawn and pulled off her coat, tossing it over the back of the nearby couch. "I spent the night at Original Cindy's. I figured **you** could use the privacy, and **I** could use the sleep." 

"Then why do you look dead on your feet?" 

"Because," she yawned again, covering her mouth with one hand, "you weren't the only one who got lucky last night, so I **still** didn't get any sleep." Kendra shook her head in wry amusement. "Whatever that girl does, she sure does it well – the noise factor there was almost as bad as it would've been down here." 

"Hey," Max protested, placing her hands on her hips and momentarily forgetting her worries over the aftermath of the previous night's events, "I'm not **that** loud." 

Kendra gave her an incredulous look. "Max, not only could you wake up the dead, you'd probably also make 'em blush." Then she shrugged, "But that's okay – a girl's gotta get her enjoyment too. Especially when that girl gets it as rarely as you do." 

"So I don't like to give it up easy," Max cocked her head to one side. "What's wrong with that?" 

Kendra laughed, heading toward the kitchen to brew up a pot of coffee. "Honey, it's not that you don't give it up **easy** – you just give it up **rarely**." 

"Rare but easy," Max surmised, following her, "So basically, the gates stay closed most of the time, but when the carnival does roll around once or twice a year, anyone can get in." Zoo would have been more appropriate than carnival, but she would have had a hard time explaining that one to Kendra. Besides, it didn't really work with the analogy. 

Setting down the water on the stove, Kendra switched the little gas flame on. "I wouldn't say **anyone** – you do seem to have very discriminating tastes when it comes to your men. Take, for instance, last night's flavor," she sent a sly grin in her friend's direction, "Can you say, 'yummy'?" 

Max gave a noncommittal grunt and glanced away. "Yeah, well, I won't be going back for seconds." Okay, she'd already had her 'seconds', and thirds, and… never mind. 

Eyebrows rising slightly, Kendra replied, "What's the matter? Looked better from behind the glass window than it was up front?" Though she couldn't see how that was possible – no one could have faked the blatant sexual appeal Max's mystery man had exuded last night during that brief opportunity she'd had to observe him in action. If they weren't such good friends, she would have resented her that score. Okay, she still resented her, but in a good, friendly, healthy, not-gonna-try-to-kill-you-or-anything kind of way. 

"No," Max answered, her tone somewhat regretful, "it was actually even **better** up front." 

"Then what?" she puzzled. Max after a night of lovin' was usually a happy, easy to get along with Max – hot steamy sex always chased the bitch away, albeit temporarily. But then understanding suddenly dawned in Kendra's mind, replacing the earlier confusion. She set her hands on the counter and leaned forward, asking sympathetically, "Didn't leave behind a forwarding address?" 

Forwarding address – no, though she did have the last known location of residence, which did her no good whatsoever. "Not exactly," Max muttered, studying her hands idly. 

"**Some** method by which to get back in contact?" 

"No…" 

"Ah," Kendra nodded. "And I think I finally see the reason for the ranting and raving episode that was going on in here earlier." 

"That's not the problem," Max glowered. She didn't fail to notice the incredulous look on her roommate's face. "It's not! In fact, I'm quite glad there won't be any repeat performances" – liar! – "and I can only hope I'll never have to see his face again" – because if you did, you'd be all over him again, only this time there'd be no heat to blame it on – "so you can just forget what you're thinking." 

Kendra knew well enough not to push her when she was like this – their years of frienship aside, life and limbs could be at stake. Instead, she tried another approach, "So, then, what **is** the problem?" 

Hmm, he was sent from a secret government-funded military organization to capture me and take me back to the one place I'd rather die than return to, and now he's decided not to go through with his mission because he'd afraid of what might become of him if he does. And oh, he went and abandoned me after giving me this little 'heads up'. That enough? 

To be fair, he **had** warned her of the dangers of remaining in Seattle. "If **I** found you," he'd said, "what makes you think they won't too? Especially when they come looking for me – and I haven't been too concerned with covering my trail while I was tracking you down." 

Her response had been, of course, the standard, "Screw you, I've done fine on my own for the past ten years. Now get the hell out of my apartment." 

So, technically, he hadn't abandoned her – merely followed through on her instructions. 

Of course, she probably would have been more open to his side of things if they'd parted on different terms. His hand on the doorknob, he'd turned to give her one last look – a sweeping glance, intimately perusing her from head to toe – a smug grin on his face, as if he were mentally revisiting the events of the previous night right then and there. She'd suppressed the shiver that had threatened to betray her internal response to his piercing gaze, but still felt as if he'd somehow seen right through her. "Goodbye, Max," he'd drawled in that deep voice that seemed to hit just the right spot with her sensitive ears, his eyes sparkling with unrequited amusement. 

"Alec," she'd sneered, but that'd only served to widen his grin. 

But since she couldn't tell Kendra any of this – because then she would have to explain just **why** a soldier from a secret government-funded military organization would be sent to after **her** – she said nothing. Ah, the dilemma of possessing a secret identity. 

Kendra, however, took Max's silence as affirmation of her own suspicions. "Right," she nodded, completely oblivious to the truth of the matter. "Look, Max, there's one thing you have to remember about men – they are scum. Oh, not all of them," she acknowledged with a slight wave of her hand, "but the **majority** are. Enough so that it's not even worth talking about those few rare individuals who fall outside the generalization. All they care about is banging the gong, and once they've done that – see ya." 

Despite herself, Max laughed. "You spend one night at OC's and you come back sounding like you've been converted. Something happen last night that you're not telling me about?" 

Kendra gave her a sort of bittersweet smile, shaking her head. "Nah. I'm still batting for the home team. Because with all their faults and inadequacies, and all those stupid things they do, say, think… there is one thing – a trait, if you are to be so generous as to call it that – that they do possess to make up for it all." 

"Yeah?" Max inquired, "What's that?" 

"A penis." 

  
_

- to be continued - 

_


	4. Chapter 4

**

They Didn't Train Me for This 

**

  
_- Chapter 4 -_

  
  
Money. Cold, hard cash. 

Something 494 – Alec – needed a lot of, and something he had far too little of at the moment. 

It took a lot of money to set up a new identity, secure sector passes, and attain transportation. Well, he **could** have managed on a tighter budget, one that was currently within his grasp, but when he left Seattle, he wanted to be sure there would be no accompanying trail. He had to simply disappear. He was no prepubescent escapee on the 'outside' for the first time, living by wits and superior genes alone; he had plenty of training on his side. If, in three weeks, he could attain what no one else at Manticore had managed in ten years – track down one of the '09 escapees – then surely he could put those same techniques to use covering his own traces. 

All it took was resources. Rather expensive resources. And there was one way he knew how to get a lot of cash, fast. One way that perfectly complemented his training. 

But where was he going to find something to… appropriate, to fund his escape – something of enough value, even on the black market, something easy to fence, something guarded with only a reasonable, not excessive, amount of security? It wasn't like the existence of such a something was just going to be announced via a message falling from the **sky**… 

His eyes grazed idly over a folded-up copy of the day's newspaper that rested on the bed in the little motel room. 

"Hello, what's this?" 

He read aloud the headline, " 'Seattle Museum gets new addition to Greek Classical Tradition Jewelry collection'… They have a whole collection of Greek classical tradition jewelry?" Shrugging, he continued to skim the article, "Fourth century BC… rare treasure… blah, blah, blah… Hmm, sounds – priceless." 

Okay, maybe not from the sky… 

A slow grin turned up the corners of his lips, all his troubles forgotten in the moment as his brain immediately set to planning, devising, and scheming. 

Hell, this might even be fun. 

Between acquiring his target, setting up a fence, planning the job and gathering the necessary tools, almost two days had passed since that morning he'd made his fated decision. That meant almost four days since he'd last reported in. Long enough so his superiors would know something had gone amiss, and send reinforcements in after him. Of course, they had no way of knowing whether something had come up in the mission to incapacitate him, or he'd simply deserted the cause itself. But knowing Manticore, they tended to err on the side of caution. 

Still, they had to **find** him first, with only the knowledge that both he and his target were somewhere in Seattle, or had been in the recent past. By that time, with the job completed and the necessary cash secured, the Seattle skyline should be just an image in his rearview mirror. 

He couldn't say the same for **her**. 

Stupid – she'd chosen to stay, defying all logic and strategy, everything she should have learned from her training during the decade she'd spent at Manticore. After all the trouble her little unit had gone to with the escape, and all the trouble they'd caused, he figured unexpected relocation would have been a small and affordable price to pay to secure the freedom when it had just been jeopardized. 

And what the hell was so great about Seattle anyway? Like she couldn't find the same things she had here in any one of dozens of other broken cities across America. A directionless, underpaying job, with directionless, underpaid friends… he hadn't seen anything worth clinging to at the risk of losing her life. 

Anyway, it wasn't his concern. **She** wasn't his concern – not anymore. But it might soothe Manticore for its loss, having one missing soldier replaced by another. At least that good would come out of all this. 

He hit the building at eleven, an hour before the next group of guards came on for the graveyard shift. The outer security was a breeze – the stuff he'd prepared for at Manticore made this system look like a combination lock on a school kid's locker. 

Once he was inside, he ducked inside a closet located close to his target, and waited. The afternoon guards would finish with a final sweep of the building, heading back to the desk two minutes before midnight to sign off, and the next shift would come in at that point. But it would take them at least three minutes to make it up to the second floor, where the necklace was located. 

That left him five minutes to get from the closet, to the necklace, lift it from the display without setting off the sensors, and then back outside, all without getting noticed. 

Simple. Nothing even worth breaking a sweat over. He leaned back against the wall and waited. 

11:58. 

Alec stepped out of the closet. He glanced in both directions down the hallway just to double check, but his enhanced hearing told him the way was clear. Stepping around the last bend so the prize was within sight, he eyed the remainder of the security system he would have to beat. No motion detectors in the floor – not possible, or the guards could not have managed their rounds – but the glass casing under which the necklace was kept came equipped with sensors. Now **that** would be the only part that would require any true effort. 

Sliding stealthily across the floor, his dark clothing blending him, a shadow in the darkness, his swift journey came to a sudden halt as he collided with a solid form he was **positive** was not there but a moment earlier. 

What the fuck? 

"What the fuck?!" someone echoed his sentiment. 

Oh, no, no, nonono… 

He recognized the voice immediately, and if he hadn't already seen as much shit as he had during his life, he might have wallowed in disbelief, thinking that fate could not be so cruel, the powers that be, so sadistic. But he knew better. Cruel and sadistic, they were. 

Turning his head and peering down, his gaze met with a russet-colored one. 

"Max," he grinned, as if this horrific turn of events was somehow pleasing to him, not letting on his true exasperation. 

"No way," she said expressionlessly, and her eyes turned heavenward, as if pleading with some higher force. "This cannot be happening." Then her gaze suddenly sharpened and veered in his direction, narrowing accusingly. "What are you doing here? Did you do this on purpose? Are you following me? Aren't you supposed to be out of Seattle by now?" 

Rolling his eyes, he replied to her barrage of questions, "As much as it may pain you to hear this, the universe does **not** revolve around you, 452" – he purposely used her designation, knowing it would irk her – "And I **am** on my way out of Seattle, but I need a bit of getaway cash first… hence," he said, giving a meaningful look in the direction of the display holding the valuable piece of jewelry, "my presence here." 

Max followed his glance before turning back to him. "Oh no, don't even think about it." 

Alec raised an eyebrow. "Why – because stealing is 'wrong'?" 

"No, because this one's mine." She placed a hand on her hip, and for the first time he glanced down, taking in the black cat suit that hugged every curve, left nothing but the perfect caramel flesh hidden. Unwittingly, he found himself recalling the memory of two nights prior. A memory he had forced himself to put out of his mind since then, because he could afford no distractions, nothing that might jeopardize his new mission. 

He was quiet, no snappy comeback, no response to her bold declaration. Max frowned. What was he up to? Was he planning some sort of maneuver, some plan to get her out of the way so he could finish this gig without her and take off with the necklace? She took in his stance, but found it relatively relaxed, definitely not prepared for any physical confrontation. Allowing herself the opportunity to study his face, she followed his gaze until they were both staring at… 

"Hey," she cried indignantly, slapping him across the shoulder. "Eyes up top!" 

Flinching slightly at the blow, he raised his head slowly, without speaking, his eyes moving upward and resting… 

"Higher," she hissed. 

That seemed to finally draw him from his – study – and he met her inflamed gaze with an unrepentant grin. "Just admiring the view, Maxie." 

The fury in her expression ebbed slightly, and she blinked rapidly, confusion and… something else, flickering through. Then that too disappeared, before he had a chance to examine it any further. 

"Well, I'm not a fucking national park," she snapped. "If you really want a view to admire, why don't you go wait for the sunrise?" 

He glanced at his watch, realizing that his window of opportunity was quickly closing. "As lovely as that sounds – like I said, I have to acquire some major cash, and quick. And if you don't mind," he said, brushing past her, "you've wasted enough of my time already." 

"Hey," she moved in front of him. "And I told you, this necklace is mine." Her hands were balled into fists, taught arms held at her sides, and he knew she was willing to fight him for this. 

Which was stupid, because it would get neither of them anywhere. 

Taking a step closer so he was peering down into her large brown eyes, he hissed, "Well, if we don't get **it** – and ourselves – out of here in the next three minutes, it will remain the property of this lovely establishment." 

Max stared up into the tempest of his gaze, and with something akin to nervousness, she suddenly recalled how easily he had reversed their positions back at her apartment that morning. She had held the gun, she had had the element of surprise on her side, catching him as he slept. And still, it was he who had walked away the victor – if one could really be named. 

After a few long seconds, she reluctantly nodded. "Alright," she replied. "But I'm not backing off. This deal is going down fifty-fifty." 

Inwardly, Alec suppressed a groan. In mere minutes – two and a half, to be exact – he had just lost half of his escape fund. 

Well, half was still better than none, which is exactly what he'd have if they stood around debating this any longer. 

"Fine," he answered with a curt movement of his head. 

"Fine." She swung around and headed toward the display, and his eyes followed the subtle sway of her hips until he realized what he was doing and a mental slap brought some sense back into him. 

You're a soldier, he reminded himself. A soldier with discipline. Focus on the mission. Not on her ass. 

  
_

- to be continued - 

_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** This isn't really a new chapter. I actually uploaded it earlier during the time of ff.net's troubles. But for some reason, it doesn't show up on my stats so I'm reposting in hopes of fixing this little problem. Chapter 6 should be up soon... though I feel I should warn you, I'm in a rather optimistic mood at the moment. 

  
  


**They Didn't Train Me for This**

  
_

- Chapter 5 -

_

  
  
  
"That's not how you do it." 

Warm breath tickled his ear as he attempted to concentrate on the task at hand – the removal of the thick plate glass that kept them from their prize. 

"You're taking forever… Where'd you learn to cut glass?" 

Alec shot a brief look over his shoulder. 

"Oh, right." 

After her somewhat sheepish response, there was almost a full second's worth of much-welcomed silence. 

"Are you done yet?" 

Max managed a startled step sideways, just barely avoiding being knocked down by Alec as he abruptly stepped back, the circle of glass in hand. "There," he hissed unapologetically, his expression silencing her before she could remark. 

"Good, my turn," she grinned, taking the spot he had just vacated. "Time to watch the master at work." She ignored the snort that sounded behind her. 

Flexing her gloved hand, she brought it over the opening her fellow thief had just created – 

"You can't just reach in there," Alec cut in before she could go any further. "Those sensors will detect any fluctuations in the weight within the case." 

"Oh please," Max rolled her eyes, "What do you take me for – an amateur?" Her hand flipped over then open in one fluid motion, revealing a large black square resting in her palm. "Magnet." 

"Yeah, and what about the weight **lost** when you take the – " 

He didn't have to finish; Max had already pulled out a plain metal-link chain with her other hand, dangling it before Alec. 

"Is it the same – " 

"Down to the milligram." She grinned smugly. 

He nodded, trying not to look impressed. "Alright then. You have a minute – get to it." 

"Won't need even half that," she said confidently. And she was right – less than thirty seconds later, the ancient treasure was in her hand, safely beyond the range of the sensors, and the worthless replacement in the case in its stead. 

Just as she pulled it free, their superior hearing allowed them both to pick up the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs at the same instant. Max went to place the necklace in the pouch she'd strapped around her waist, only to find her hand return with a sharp tug. Her eyes narrowed as they met with Alec's. 

If he thinks I'm going to let him just take… 

If she thinks she's walking off with… 

… that necklace… 

… then he is… 

… she's just… 

… completely insane! 

But the sound of nearing footsteps spurred them both into action. Or rather, they spurred **Alec** into action, who, in turn, spurred Max… or perhaps propelled would have been a more accurate description. 

Using his grip on the jewel, he flung her toward their exit, releasing only once he'd built enough momentum to send her clear across the room, while he himself dove behind a display just moments before the on-duty guard ambled into view. Peaking around the corner, Alec spared a glance in Max's direction. She'd caught herself before she could announce her presence by slamming noisily into the wall, and was now gone from sight. 

Shit! What if she'd taken off with the necklace? By the time he got out and went after her, she'd have more than enough of a lead to lose him for good. Waiting until the guard was a few steps past him and nearing the tampered display, he blurred to the other end of the room, diving through the window and catching the rope he'd left hanging for his departure. 

Wait a minute… something was not right. 

Glancing up, Alec found himself staring at Max, who was currently perched on the edge of the roof of the two-story museum. From one gloved hand dangled the other end of the rope, the end that should have been safely secured to building. 

"Max…" he began, not at all liking the strange gleam in her eye. 

She gave him a falsely sweet smile… 

"Can we just - " 

… and released the rope. 

So Alec did the only reasonable thing when faced with the prospect of falling two painful stories to the hard grassy surface below – which, though it wouldn't kill or permanently injure him, would still be quite the inconvenience. He grabbed Max's wrist and took her with him. He had one brief, but sweet, instant during which to relish the shock in her expression as she realized what was coming next, and then the empty air at his back became the ground. With an, "oomph" he landed, softening Max's fall with his own body. 

Max sprang up quickly to a sitting position, scrambling through the pouch where she'd placed the necklace. Pulling it out, she exhaled in relief to find it undamaged by the unexpected journey. But relief immediately transformed to irritation and anger as she realized how easily it could have been the opposite outcome. 

"You idiot!" she exclaimed, glaring down at Alec, who still appeared to be in recovery. "Do you know how much of a hit we'd take in the price if you'd broken the damn thing?" She punctuated the remark by smacking him upside the head. 

"Relax, it's fine," he managed in a hitching breath, swatting her hand away. Then he gave her a pointed look. "Now, do you mind getting off me? I can't breathe." 

Max glanced down, taking in their positions – she was seated on his chest while he lay prostrate beneath her. "Oh, I'm sorry," she drawled. "By all means, let me get out of your way." 

In the process of "getting out of his way", she managed to knee him in the chest, kick him in the side, and step on his hand – all of which she apologized for, at the end, with an "Oops. Sorry." 

"That's alright," he returned with equal sincerity, giving a tight smile as he picked his bruised body off the ground. 

They didn't speak again until they were safely out of sight of the museum and close to their respective getaway vehicles. 

"Did you have a particular fence in mind? I was just going to my regular…" Max shrugged, watching him. 

He flexed his shoulder gingerly. "I had one set up that deals specifically in high-figure dealings. I'm sure we could get five numbers for it." He was beginning to wonder how good an idea it was to pull Max along – without her falling with him, he could at least have managed a less painful landing. But then, is the desire for revenge ever tempered by reason? 

"Alright," she started to walk away, but he pulled her back before she could get far. She turned, a scowl on her face, her gaze meeting with his. 

"Where do you think you're going?" 

After a brief, backward glance over her shoulder, she returned his look with raised eyebrows. "To my bike." 

"With the necklace?" 

"Well, I'm not giving it to you. What are the chances that you're **not** going to screw me over the first opportunity you get?" 

Alec didn't dispute that. Instead, he replied, "And **I** should trust **you**?" 

She rolled her eyes and placed a hand on her hip. "You know where I live. What am I gonna do?" 

"Move?" 

Max glared at him. Right. She wasn't prepared to leave Seattle, her home, even when she knew Manticore would eventually pick up her trail – thanks to soldier boy in front of her – but she'd move just to pull one over him. Some people had major trust issues. 

"I'm not going anywhere." 

"Right," he said, with something suspiciously like condescension in his tone. She chose to ignore it, for the simple reason that less time spent bickering meant less time spent together. 

"You lead," she said, heading back to gather her Ninja. 

  


~*~

  
"Exquisite. Simply, exquisite!" 

Max exchanged an amused glance with Alec as his fence, Arthur, poured over the details of the necklace with a magnifying glass. 

"Fourth century BC – what a rare find!" 

"Glad you like. So can we have our money now?" Max swung her legs back and forth, perched atop her makeshift "seat". 

"Maxie, you're leaving ass marks on the nice man's clean counter," Alec chided gently, receiving a death glare in return. 

"I could leave a boot print on your forehead instead, if you'd like," she offered sweetly. They'd been waiting almost a half hour already while Arthur admired the hunk of metal, raining its praises and giving them a minor, unprompted history lesson. 

"Oh no, no, no," Arthur interrupted distractedly, entirely missing the violent turn of the conversation. "It's quite alright. Your young lady can sit wherever she likes." 

"Your young lady?" Max mouthed in disgust. Alec grinned and winked, and she raised her foot in clear threat. 

"Simply magnificent," Arthur muttered again. The light caught the shining expanse of his bald head, creating a glare that made Max squint in annoyance. 

"I dunno," she mused, "For such a valuable piece of jewelry, it sure is ugly." 

Arthur glanced up at her in horror, all but dropping the little magnifying glass in his shock. 

"I mean," she explained quickly, "look at those. What are they… rams, and goats, and dogs… and bunnies? On jewelry?" She glanced toward Alec for support, but he merely crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her in mock disapproval, even going so far as to shake his head slightly in support when Arthur replied. 

"This, young lady, was part of the attire of a Bosporan priestess to Demeter, Greek goddess of fertility. It was worn, along with the rest of the traditional dress, during special ceremonies to honor the goddess. Those rams, goats, dogs and **hares** have been finely crafted in the open work frieze, soldered together, and then inserted between two bands of egg and dart ornament and twisted wires with **exceptional** care to detail. All quite remarkable considering this whole pieces was created some twenty-four **hundred** years ago." 

His little rant finished, the man took a deep breath, and releasing it, sat back. Alec hid a grin, awaiting the stumbled apology as Max inevitably attempted to remove her foot from her mouth. 

She blinked, clearly unimpressed. "Ugly." 

Arthur's mouth gaped open, then flapped closed, then open, closed, open, and closed again, leaving him resembling a fish pulled out of its cozy little watery habitat. 

Alec choked back a laugh and Max shrugged. "I wouldn't wear it." 

Before the other man could respond, Alec cut in, "So, Artie, our money?" 

Arthur stared at Max a moment then shook his head, muttering something about kids and their lack of respect, all of which both transgenics heard clearly. But then he turned toward Alec and nodded. "Twenty," he offered. 

"Twenty?!" Alec exclaimed. "Artie, I'm insulted. Here I am, bringing you this rare gem worth hundreds of thousands – if not millions – of dollars, and you offer me a measly twenty?" 

The older man frowned, wrinkling his nose slightly. "Yes, it may be worth **millions**, but there's no way I'm going to sell it for anywhere **near** that on the black market. Twenty." 

"Thirty." 

"Twenty-two." 

"Thirty." 

"Twenty-three." 

"Thirty." 

"Twenty – " 

He didn't have a chance to finish before Max snatched the necklace from his grasp. "You know, Artie, if you don't wanna pay the thirty, we'll just go find someone who does." She hopped off the counter and started to head toward the door. "Come on, Alec, let's go." 

Alec raised an eyebrow at Max's negotiating tactics, but after one step in her direction, Arthur stopped them. 

"Wait. Alright." He sighed, nodding. "Thirty – you got it." 

Max swung to face him and seemed to consider this. "Make it thirty-two. I always liked the number thirty-two." 

"Thirty-two…?" One look at her face, and his shoulders slumped in concession. "Fine. Thirty-two." 

Then she smiled, a genuinely delighted expression that made it difficult for both men not to return it. Arthur told himself he was being gouged by this very woman, and thus maintained his dour appearance. Alec reminded himself she had ruined his life and was now taking half his earnings from this job… 

… from a total that would have been much smaller without her, a little voice reminded him. 

Yeah, but it still would've been more than sixteen grand. 

In the end, he managed a straight, though not stern, face. 

Arthur went into the back room and returned a few minutes later with a bagful of cash. "Thirty-two," he grumbled, placing it on the counter. "You can count it out." 

"That's okay," Max said pleasantly. "We trust you." She grabbed the bag and leaned over the counter, placing a large kiss on the older man's cheek, leaving a glaring burgundy-colored imprint on his face. "A pleasure doing business with you, Arthur." 

He blushed a shade of red that would have made a lobster envious. After much stuttering and mumbling, he managed to answer something resembling, "You too." 

She sauntered to the exit, Alec close behind her, pausing when Arthur called out behind them. "You know, if you're looking for some more work sometime, I know of a few two-man… um, person… jobs that pay a lot of cash." 

"No thanks, I work solo," both transgenics replied at once. They turned and exchanged glares. 

"Oh, okay," Arthur said, sounding slightly disappointed. "But if you ever change your minds…" 

Alec shook his head, a wry grin on his lips. "Sorry, but I don't think that's ever gonna happen." Then he followed Max out to their awaiting vehicles. 

"Sixteen – sixteen," Max said a few minutes later, tossing the bag toward Alec while placing her own share in her pouch. "You can count it if you want." 

He met her gaze briefly. "I think I will." 

"Whatever," she replied with a roll of her eyes, settling on her bike. 

As he counted, he snuck a glance at her, watching as she stared silently out into the night. "So," he began tentatively. "I told you why I needed the cash, but what about you?" 

There was a small pause. 

"I have overhead," she answered evasively without facing him. 

"Overhead," he repeated, but she gave no elaboration. "Well," he returned after a moment, "your 'overhead' will become Manticore's concern once they catch up with you." 

Now she did turn to look at him, her expression was anything but friendly. "What do you care?" 

"I'm just saying, you're not gonna really need that cash." 

"Oh," she replied, nodding in understanding. "So I should probably just give it to you – since you can put it to much better use, right?" 

He grinned, "Really, Max? That would be so generous of you." 

She snorted but fell silent while he finished his counting. Then, almost out of nowhere, she said, "I'll be fine." 

Alec said nothing. He tossed the last bill into the bag and looked up. "Well, I'm outta here. I'm picking up my I.D., then I'm blowing this Popsicle stand." 

Max furrowed her brows and shot him a look. "Where did you pick up all this crap?" 

Frowning, he replied, "Common Verbal Usage. It helped me blend in for my solo missions." 

Her eyes darkened slightly, but she didn't comment on that. "Well, Manticore needs to update their textbooks; you're a little behind the times there." 

He shrugged. "Whatever. A word of advice Max: you can keep looking over your shoulder, but when they come for you – and they will, one day soon – it won't do you any good." 

She glared at him, "That's not advice. That's just a pessimistic forecast." Then she shook her head and started the bike. "Anyway, you do whatever you gotta do; I'm going to go get myself a few celebratory drinks." 

Alec watched her pull away and tear the down the street, the wind whipping through her curly dark hair, the very image of reckless insolence. "Just take care of yourself, Max," he said softly. 

  


~*~

  
He had just pulled through the last sector point, new I.D., remaining cash and necessary supplies securely in his possession, and Seattle soon to be behind him. The prospect of a life outside Manticore, freedom to do as he pleased, was both exhilarating and frightening. Never before had he been faced with so many choices. Like right now, he could go wherever he wanted – with no one there to tell him his next destination, his next mission. 

Freedom. He was suddenly starting to see why people might want to fight for this, why they would lay down their lives, why they might even disregard the lives of others to feel this sensation… 

Alec shook his head, tearing himself away from that thought. 

No, freedom was something you lay down you **own** life for, not others'. You had no right to trade another's life for your cause. 

Suddenly his vision focused on a nearing sight and he sat up straighter in his seat. Heart thudding heavily in his chest, his gaze narrowed in on the dark vehicles heading toward him… toward **Seattle**. Their destination was clearly his recent point of departure. 

Black windows tinted to nearly opaque, Class 2 armor, several vehicles driving with singular purpose. All nondescript, beyond that – completely unmarked and undistinguishable should, for any reason, identification be made. 

They passed him soon, and kept going, unaware that one of their targets was so close within range. But even as they disappeared from sight in his rearview mirror, when his body's autonomic system should have returned to normal, the tense knot in the center of his gut refused to go with them. 

Max, the singular word ran through his mind. 

But then he shook his head. He'd warned her, repeatedly. She'd refused to listen; there was nothing more he could do. 

She'd made her decision, and now she had to face the consequences. 

She might still have a day or two, if they hadn't yet tracked down the specifics of her location, but it was just delaying the inevitable. They'd catch her soon enough, and genetically enhanced super-soldier though she was, she wouldn't stand a chance of escape against dozens of trained military personnel who knew exactly her capabilities and limitations. 

Alec shook his head. "I warned her." 

And he kept driving – away from Seattle, away from her. 

  
  


_- to be continued -_


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** If you remember way back to the pilot, Natalie was Sketchy's girlfriend and Lydia was the freaky chick he was cheating on her with. This little bit of knowledge will become relevant later in the chapter. 

  
  
  
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They Didn't Train Me for This

**

  
_- Chapter 6 -_

  
  
If there was one thing about Colonel Lydecker that even his enemies had to begrudgingly acknowledge, it was the fact that he was an exceptionally patient man. The last nine years of his life had been devoted to one singular goal: to track down and recapture the dozen individuals who had escaped from his unit that fateful night in the winter of '09. Though he had yet to meet one face-to-face after all this time, he knew he was close… They'd slip up eventually, and when they did, he'd be there to catch them. 

Hence, when he'd had arrived at Seattle the day before, only recently briefed on his current mission, he was both outraged and baffled by his superiors' idiocy. 

Bringing in the '09 escapees was his job, and his alone. They were his kids, his unit to command. His failure. 

Which explained his anger and disbelief when he was told that without his knowledge, someone other than himself had been sent out after 452 - **his** 452 - to her last known location, Seattle. Add fuel to the fire by then revealing that this other individual was an X5, one from another unit, and he had then gone MIA as well. Whether killed, captured, or AWOL… they didn't know. 

And Director Renfro, that sadistic, manipulative bitch, for some reason still unknown to him, had chosen 494, a clone of one of the '09 escapees- the existence of whom Deck had been completely unaware - for the mission. With any number of capable operatives available at hand, he doubted it was just coincidental; Renfro never operated by coincidences. 

Nearly two days into their search, Lydecker and his team, dressed in civilian attire for an attempt at inconspicuousness, were progressing through the dark interior of yet another low-class club, not unlike the dozen other locales they had already scoured. Clubs, bars, motels… anywhere 494 was likely to have frequented during his surveillance of his target. And so far, nothing. Almost an hour at this location alone, he had all but given up on finding anything here. If 494 had passed though the Crash, he appeared to have done so unnoticed. Which, ironically, was just how he'd been trained to work. Now, if only he'd stuck to his training on all aspects… 

After trying his luck with the bartender, who merely shook his head unhelpfully, Deck turned to the man seated on a barstool beside him. 

"Excuse me, sir," he began, pulling up the picture clutched in his hand. "You wouldn't by any chance have seen this man over the past couple of days? Maybe here, in this club?" 

The stranger eyed the picture of 494 appreciatively, giving a low whistle. "Can't say's I've been blessed yet. But honey, if you do find him, be sure to let me know." 

That was about as helpful as any of the responses over the past day. For the first time in his career, Deck began to begrudge just how attractive Manticore had made its soldiers. It would certainly have saved him a great deal of time in his search. 

With a slight exhalation of breath, he continued back to the tables, arriving at one occupied by a young black woman and a blond, neither of whom seemed particularly pleased at the interruption. The dark-skinned woman eyed the two men standing not far behind Deck, both of whom were doing a remarkably terrible job of blending in. Their constant surveillance of their surroundings was almost obvious, and there was no way they could be mistaken for the usual club patrons, regardless of the fact they were dressed similar to everyone around them. But they were military men experienced in using weapons and strategy in carrying out their missions… and if, by some turn of luck, he did run into his missing transgenic tonight, they were exactly the sort of men he would need. 

"Can we help you wit somethin'?" the dark haired woman inquired, with one raised eyebrow and just enough attitude to make the words sound uninviting. 

Not entirely unused to this type of behavior after the past few days' search, Deck replied smoothly, "Yes, as a matter of fact, you might be able to." He pulled up the picture he'd been holding at his side. "I was wondering if either of you ladies had seen this man around during the past few days?" 

The blonde sighed and rolled her eyes. "Why? What's he done?" 

Hearing the words as they fell from her mouth, Cindy could have kicked her friend for her amazing display of density. In fact, she did. Kendra let out a stifled gasp of surprise and pain, but managed to avert any further stupidity by not calling her companion on the act in front of the stranger. 

OC didn't know who this "man in black" was, but as far as she was concerned, a dude with a couple of personal bodyguards scouring the club scene with a picture of Max's latest hot boy, not three days after they'd hooked up - and unhooked, but that was more an issue for an overdue heart-to-heart with her girl, than a fact of relevance for the situation at hand - did not add up to good things. Unfortunately though, it was too late in the game for simple denial. 

"So you do know him?" the stranger inquired, suddenly much more alert than earlier. 

Staring into the dark eyes that seemed to bore right down to her very soul, Kendra suppressed a shudder. She was getting some major freaky vibes from this guy, and suddenly wished that she too were in possession of the Original Cindy brand of logic, which would undoubtedly have told her to keep her mouth shut from the very beginning. Kendra tried to keep from squirming in her seat, as that would have screamed guilt, though she wasn't entirely sure what she was guilty of. 

"Um…" she looked toward OC, who appeared to be attempting to convey some sort of telepathic message, forgetting that neither of them of was… well, telepathic. "He was around here a few days ago," she said finally. "But left pretty quick, I think." The man was absolutely unreadable and she had no idea whether or not he was buying her answer. An idea hit her and she shrugged, tossing her blonde hair emphatically. "Actually, the only reason I even recognized him is cuz I remember thinking 'what a great ass'." She tossed in a brilliant smile at the end, just for effect. 

Across the table, OC pursed her lips to keep from grinning. Kendra's act seemed to do the trick, because suddenly the man leaned back, almost exuding disappointment, and the previously sharp look of interest in his eyes dulling immediately. Apparently, whatever he'd thought he'd found, he no longer thought so. 

  


~*~

  
Max had just taken a few steps out of the ladies' room of the Crash, when she was waylaid by a very drunk, and suddenly rather affectionate, Sketchy. 

"Hey Max, buddy," he slurred, stumbling into her, only the strong arms with which she caught him keeping him from an up and close meeting with the floor. 

"Sketchy." 

He slung an arm around her shoulders, beckoning her closer as he dipped his own head for privacy in their conversation. Max obliged him, feeling rather indulgent in her current mood. Sixteen thousand in cash tends to leave a girl feeling pretty happy… even if most of it is going to end up paying off her PI. What the hell Vogelsang was doing to burn through that much dough that quickly, she had no idea, since he had yet to show her any substantial results. If she weren't so sure the guy was too afraid of her to risk really pissing her off, she'd swear he was screwing her over. Good thing for that little fear part. 

"Max, my man, yer good people," Sketchy declared, the overwhelming aroma of beer-breath assaulted her sensitive nose, causing her to instinctively pull back a couple of inches. 

"You are a terf… terrfific… um, terrific, friend." He considered that a moment, then nodded. "Yeah." 

Max patted his back. "Thanks Sketch." She prepared to leave, but apparently he was not yet done singing her praises. 

"No, no, no, I really mean it. Yer loyal. Trustworthy. You got my back. Not to mention yer like waaay hot…" 

"Sketch." 

"Uh, what I'm tryin' to say here is, like, thanks for yer help with that whole Lydia-Natalie stit… stitation… stitua… um, thing." 

"Yeah, whatever. Just remember what I told you." 

"'Kay," he replied, grinning toothily. 

Max looked at him. Judging by his expression, and the fact that his attention had just been drawn away by a particularly interesting stain on his shirt - though she had to admit, **all** the stains on his shirt look pretty interesting… but not necessarily interesting in a good way - she doubted he had an idea of what she was talking about. Hell, in his current state, he probably couldn't remember what **he** was talking about. She shook her head briefly, deciding to let it go. 

"Alright, buddy, I'm gonna get goin' now." 

"'Kay." 

She removed his arm from her shoulders and propped him up against the nearest table, knowing with almost near-certainty that if she didn't leave him with some sort of support, he wouldn't be remaining on his feet much longer. When she was fairly sure he wasn't going to fall anytime soon - or not while she was anywhere in the near vicinity, where she would have felt somewhat obligated to help him back up - she headed back toward her table. 

As she neared her friends, she noticed that someone had joined them since she'd left. She couldn't make out much, just the back of his head as he stood, talking to Kendra apparently. Hmm… gray head of hair; seemed a little older than the usual Crash patron, and a lot older than Kendra's usual hot boy. 

But aside from the whole age factor, she couldn't help but feel that there was just a little something… off… about the situation. Granted she couldn't see much from where she was, but his body language was wrong. Too stiff for flirting, yet too much confidence to just be passed off as awkwardness. 

Max tuned in to the conversation, hoping to pick up some sort of clue to explain or dismiss her uneasiness. 

"… leave with anyone?" he finished, and for some reason, his voice sent an oddly familiar thread of anxiety down her spine. 

There was something in his hand, something he'd been showing Kendra. Max frowned, zooming in on the item. A picture, that much she could tell, but at the angle at which it was held, it was impossible to make out the details. She stepped a little to the side, trying to get a better view. Just then, Kendra glanced up, meeting Max's eyes, her friend's widening just minutely, as if trying to tell her something. But it lasted no more than a second, and almost immediately, Kendra returned her gaze to the stranger's face. 

"No, he was alone," she said quickly, but apparently her little shift of attention had not escaped his observation. 

At the very moment before he turned toward her, Max suddenly noticed the two men standing nearby, both alternating between watching the table's occupants and all-too-casually glancing over the throng of people around them. On the nearer one, she could just make out an earpiece. Her eyes shot back to her friends, and instead her gaze connected with that of Colonel Lydecker. 

Max's breath caught in her throat, the shock of being so unexpectedly close to the very physical embodiment of all her nightmares after a decade apart, was enough to freeze her in place. And her slight hesitation cost her. Lydecker had no idea who she was, but her obvious interest in him and the occupants of the table was enough to draw his interest. His men too turned toward her, seeing what occupied their boss' attention. He took a step in her direction, and so did they. 

She could feign ignorance, and he'd have little reason to suspect anything. But, if she stuck around for a chat, and if he had **any** suspicions, all it would take was a quick glance at the back of her neck… 

Max turned sharply on her heel and tried to sink back into the crowd. 

"Hey, wait!" his voice called out behind her. By the occasional indignant cries and muttered curses behind her, she knew he was pushing his way through the crowd after her. She picked up her pace. She made her way toward the main entrance, but as she arrived within view, she saw another pair of men standing in the doorway, blocking anyone from entering or leaving the building. 

Oh, great. This was Lydecker… of course he was way ahead of her. 

She knew the chances that the exit through the back to the alley wasn't already blocked were essentially nonexistent, but she had to try anyway. Confirming her suspicions, she then headed toward the restrooms. Her only chance was the bathroom window. She'd never stopped to really examine it before, but she could only hope it was big enough an opening for her to fit through. And hopefully she'd have enough time to get to it. 

Reaching her destination, she abruptly veered off for the men's room, knowing that her pursuers would check the women's first. Every second was going to count. Of course, the guy at the urinal seemed a little surprised to see her. 

"Uh… this is the **men's** room." 

Max gave him what must have been a rather impressive glare, because he paled slightly and suddenly decided he was all done with the facilities. 

"Um, right," he said, quickly fumbling to zip up his pants. 

"You better take it easy. You wouldn't want anything to get… caught, in there." 

His eyes widened and he paled even further… but he immediately slowed his movements. Max turned her attention back to the task at hand. 

"Shit!" she exclaimed, punching the nearest stall. 

"What? I didn't do anything!" The guy looked like he was ready to cry. 

"Not you." Max kicked the garbage can. "Fuck!" Letting out a brief sigh, she turned toward him. "You better get out of here." After all, there was no reason to endanger his life too when Lydecker and his men came bursting in here. He hesitated only briefly, giving her one last look before scrambling for the exit. 

Her plan had been grounded the moment she decided to go for the men's room, to buy herself time… because there was no window, not in here. She'd taken the unknown route and gotten herself cornered - how stupid could she be? She felt like slamming her head against the wall, but knew that giving herself a concussion probably wasn't the best way to deal with her current situation. So instead she settled for putting her fist through it. 

"Temper, temper, Maxie. Now what did that wall ever do to you?" 

No way. That sounded just like… 

She swung around, taking in the full interior of the little bathroom, but found herself, disappointingly, alone. Great, now she was having audio-hallucinatory experiences. But of all the voices to pick… why that one? Sure, he had that nice deep, sexy rumble thing going for him, but the guy was such a… dick! Yeah, that's what she should have named him: Dick. Damn, too bad she hadn't thought of that earlier. 

"Up here." 

Max glanced toward the ceiling. 

"Dick!" 

The cocky expression he'd been wearing melted into confusion. "I thought it was Alec." 

"What are you doing here?" 

"We can play catch up later. Right now," he said, extending his arm toward her, "we should be gettin' outta here." She grabbed his hand with her own, and he hoisted her up through the opening he'd created by removing the ceiling panel. She landed a little awkwardly on top of him in the tight passageway. 

Alec grinned up at her, his hands on her hips. "Like I said, we can play later." 

Max sent him a glare, but remained silent as she quickly scrambled off of him. Carefully, Alec replaced the missing panel. "This way," he directed. 

Fifteen minutes later, they were far enough away from both the Crash and Lydecker to breathe a bit easier. In an alley not far away from Max's apartment, they stopped, neither entirely sure where to go next. 

"So," Alec began, grinning suddenly, "Where's my thank you?" 

Max blinked. "Your thank you?" she said slowly. 

"Yeah." 

There was a brief pause while she seemed to consider this. "You want me to thank you." 

This time, it wasn't a question, but Alec nodded anyway. Max took a step closer, and his grin faltered just a bit. Then she smiled at him, faintly, just a slight curve of her lips that somehow seemed to suggest more. 

Oh wait a minute… he knew what was happening. She took another step and the grin returned full force. Yeah, this happened in the movies all the time. Guy steps in last second and saves girl from some horrible fate, and girl rewards guy with one of those big, steamy kisses. And he'd been prepared to settle for the two measly words directed his way. He really needed to work on his imagination… he was seriously undershooting here. 

Alec watched as she completed a third step, leaving only a foot of space between them. Oh yeah, this was gonna be good. He licked his lips in anticipation of what he believed to be a well-deserved kiss coming his way, eyes concentrated on Max's mouth the entire time. 

So he never saw her fist coming… had no clue what had even happened for the initial few second, as he lay on the cold, hard ground, one hand clutching his bloody nose. 

  


_- to be continued -_


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** If ever you doubted the existence of miracles, let it be known: I updated twice in a single week. Miracle. 

  
  
  
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They Didn't Train Me for This

**

  
_- Chapter 7 -_

  
  
It took a moment for Alec's fuzzy brain to clear enough to process what had just happened. The fact that Max's response had been so far from his expectations had left him somewhat disoriented. 

Or was it the fist to his face that did that? 

It would explain why the appearance of the stars that now filled his vision as he lay on his back, staring up at the night sky, just happened to coincide with the blow. 

Where had he gone wrong? Oh, okay, so perhaps he'd been mistaken in assuming she would be so willing to jump into his arms after all that had happened over the past few days. Maybe he shouldn't have expected a smile and a suggestive line here and there to be enough to win her over... especially when interspersed with his usual healthy dose of snide remarks. And maybe he'd been a little unrealistic in assuming that he could so easily affect a woman who'd no doubt received more than her own fair share of attention of the opposite sex during her own lifetime. 

He had to stop thinking of her as a woman, and start remembering that she was a **transgenic** woman. That made things infinitely more complicated, and painful. Damn, could she throw a punch. 

But that still that didn't explain **why** she'd hit him. 

Once his mind had cleared, his instincts took over, and he was back on his feet in an instant. 

"Fuck! What the hell was that for?" he demanded. Fortunately, the blood flow from his nose was already easing up. With tentative hands he surmised that nothing appeared to be broken. 

"You ruined my life!" 

That gave him pause. 

"Say what?" 

Max was in a full-blown rage. Fists drawn tight at her sides, dark eyes storming… If he didn't have the security of the knowledge that he had a good decade of training on her, he might have had cause to be a bit worried. Of course, just because he lacked cause, didn't mean that he wasn't. 

"I've spent the past ten years on the run, and I never met Lydecker face-to-face in all that time. Then you find me, and three days later, so does the good ol' Colonel." She began pacing the ground before him while Alec attempted to sop up the blood streaking down his face with the sleeve of his shirt. 

"He was at the Crash; he was questioning my friends… It's only a matter of time before he figures out where I live and where I work - if he hasn't already - and now I can't go back to any of those places!" 

"Well, I did tell you not to go back three days ago, but you didn't - " he began. 

"Shut up! This is all **your** fault!" 

Feeling a bit defensive, Alec replied, "Hey, I was just doing my job." 

"Your **job**?" she repeated incredulously. Her expression was making him a little nervous, but he valiantly chose to continue. 

"Well, yeah… just like you do yours. You don't see me begrudging you delivering packages, do you?" 

"Well I won't be doing that anymore!" 

He raised an eyebrow. "And that's a bad thing, because…?" 

"Shut up! Just… **shut up**! You cocky, self-centered…" she fumbled for the perfect descriptor, "dick!" 

Alec leaned back on his heels, crossing his arms over his chest as he glanced her over in a thoroughly evaluative gesture. "Cocky? Dick? Gee Max, you seemed to have developed quite the fixation with that part of my anatomy." 

He knew, even as he spoke, that he was pushing her too far. Of course, it didn't stop him… but it did prepare him for what inevitably came next. 

He caught her fist, just inches from his face, and blocked the kick she tried to deliver while he should have been distracted by the aborted punch. Using one of his own legs, he swept both hers out from under her. In one instant, she was hitting the ground with a small grunt of pain, and in the next she was back on her feet. She didn't even stop to think, just acted on the barest, most fundamental instincts. Fight. Survive. Kick his sexy ass. 

Whoa… sexy ass? Them's wasn't fighting words. 

The fact that she could think of him like that even now, made her all the more angry. And her anger made her clumsy. She threw another punch, one that never really had a chance of hitting its target, given Alec's own enhanced reflexes, and his hand enclosed around her wrist, jerking her arm behind her back in a painfully awkward position. The other, he held out straight against her lower back, trapping it in place as well, though without the discomfort of the first. He pushed her legs out on either side of his own, letting her fall back just slightly. 

The effect was obvious. She was completely immobilized, with her stance too wide to allow her own legs to lend her support. All that was keeping her up was Alec's two arms pinning hers behind her. Her hips were flush against his, the inside of her thighs pressed up on the outside of his. She had nothing to focus her attention on but the feel of him against her… the intimacy of their positions… and the sudden flash of memory from the last time they'd been pressed so close against one another. To her horror, she felt her body begin to react. 

Not that Alec wasn't entirely aware of every precious inch at which their two bodies met, of every curve and dip of her smaller, softer one. However, his attention was most singularly focused on the response he received as he twisted Max's arm just a little further in that awkward hold. With a sharp intake of breath, her back arched, trying to alleviate the pressure he was applying, while causing her breasts to thrust upward. 

But his experiment threatened to betray him as he felt himself getting aroused by the results. Besides, there was the distinct possibility that he'd end up breaking her arm if he didn't ease up. 

"Let me go," Max hissed, glaring up at him defiantly. 

"Gladly," he replied. And he dropped her. Only her feline DNA, and the agility it afforded, spared her the added humiliation of being sprawled at his feet. 

Max straightened slowly, the anger seeping out of her along with the deep, shuddering breath she released. The reality of her situation hit her once more. 

"I know it doesn't mean much to you, but this is my home - **was** my home. You don't understand… you can't. It's not something you can really comprehend until you've experienced it yourself." Manticore was no home; she'd finally learned the meaning of the word herself, years after her escape… how could she expect him to know after only a few days? 

There was a moment of silence as Alec considered her words. A thoughtful and not entirely unsympathetic expression graced his features, his eyes softening just a little to reflect this change. 

"You mean… like an orgasm?" 

For a moment after he'd spoken the words, while she merely stared at him, face utterly expressionless, Alec steeled himself for yet another violent outburst. Like before, it wasn't that he didn't know what effect his words would have… it was just… a compulsion. He really couldn't help himself. 

Tight-faced, Max glanced away. "Yes, Alec; just like an orgasm." Her voice sounded strained. 

With just an inkling of suspicion tickling his brain, he peered a little closer. Her lips twitched almost spasmodically, and her stiff shoulders shook just slightly. He was finally shocked to realize that she wasn't angry at all; she was suppressing her laughter. 

Feeling suddenly better, he fought a grin of his own. "So what now?" 

Sighing as the amusement fled her, she looked back toward Alec and shrugged. "We have to get out of Seattle." 

He nodded; that's what he'd been all for doing just the other day. Of course, it was only by conscious decision that he ignored the fact that he was entirely too pleased by her use of the word "we". 

"Why did you come back for me?" 

"What?" He glanced up, thrown off by the sudden question. 

"You should have been long gone from Seattle by now. Why'd you come back?" 

Alec shrugged uncomfortably under Max's intense gaze. "Like I said before, I have an idea of what you'd go through if you went back to Manticore… and I felt kinda…" 

"Guilty?" 

"No," he returned quickly. "I told you already, I was just doing my job. My ass or yours, and I chose my own." 

"So?" 

"So what?" he replied touchily. 

"So why did you come back?" she asked, rolling her eyes at his severely deficient attention span. 

Damn, this chick was relentless. She just wouldn't let it drop… and it was getting pretty annoying. 

Suddenly, Alec grinned. A sly, knowing expression, accompanied by a certain unsettling sparkle to his eyes, which left Max feeling somewhat apprehensive. Instinctively, she found herself frowning. "Like I said, when it came to my ass or yours, I chose mine. But that was before I had a chance to see yours. After a real up close and personal… I changed my mind." 

He was surprised when her frown slowly transformed into a smile of her own. "I can sympathize. If I had to choose between my ass or yours, I'd go with mine too." 

"Well, we both know it's not my ass that you're really interested in." 

Max glared at him then turned abruptly on her heel and headed out of the alley, toward the street. He followed her, catching the "Asshole" she tossed none-too-discreetly over her shoulder. 

"Bitch," he returned gleefully. 

Alec caught up to her quickly, only to find himself shoved into the path of an oncoming car. The driver honked furiously and Alec leapt out of the way, just barely in time. He stared incredulously at Max, who returned his expression with a beatific smile. Sure, it wouldn't have killed him… but it would have hurt like hell, and certainly impeded in the whole "swift getaway" plan. 

"You better believe it," Max sang out, continuing on her way without so much as an inquiry to see if he was all right. 

When he caught up to her again, he decided to leave a good distance between them, just in case she decided to try… well, anything. He eyed her warily, making sure to take note of where her hands were at all times. 

"Where are we going?" 

"I have a friend who can help us out." 

Alec snorted. "I find that hard to believe." 

Max threw him a questioning look. "What, that he can help us out?" 

"That you have a friend." 

Max pretended to lunge toward him. Seeing how quickly he jumped out of the way, she grinned and decided to let the remark slide. 

  


_- to be continued -_


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** A big thanks to my beta readers, Kiwichick and BHG... and to everyone who's put up with the inconsistent updates. I'm a bad, bad person. Somebody spank me. Preferably Alec.

* * *

**

They Didn't Train Me for This

**

_- Chapter 8 -_

For the first time in a long while, Max found herself approaching Foggle Towers on foot. It was rather disconcerting when she thought about it, going anywhere without either one of her trusty bikes. In the midst of an economy where few but the most privileged were in possession of automated transportation, she just had to wonder if she was getting a little spoiled.

"Nice," Alec commented appreciatively as he surveyed the tall building. "I didn't realize you ran in such posh circles."

Max leapt up, catching a hold of the nearest ledge, quickly ascending the wall en route to her favorite entrance to Logan's apartment. After her all too close brush with Lydecker, being 'rescued' by Alec, and now her continued presence in his rather antagonizing company, she was in no mood to be attempting to explain to the night security guard why exactly two 'lowlifes' such as themselves would need to see the esteemed Logan Cale the Junior, this late into the night…except for the rather obvious possibility, to rob him.

Herself, she was reasonably sure she could sweet talk her way into admittance - if she was feeling tolerant enough to put up with some desperate, middle-aged man who probably thought he could fool people into believing that the size of his gun reflected the size of his…well, other little pistol.

But Alec was another story. She snuck an appraising glance in his direction. Yes, she decided with a mental nod. He definitely had a shifty look about him.

"Yeah, my whole involvement with you is actually charity work. I don't usually associate with people so beneath me," she said leading the way up to a one-foot deep ledge just outside Logan's living room window. She paused to wait for him when she reached her destination.

"Hey, I don't mind beneath you…as I'm sure you can tell from our last experience." He hoisted himself up beside her, placing his back to the concrete wall as he perfunctorily readjusted his clothes. "You can be anywhere you like: above me, beneath me, on your knees in front - "

Max's fist suddenly around the collar of his jacket cut him off. He met her smoldering gaze with an arched eyebrow and a pointed glance in the direction of her offending hand.

"Stop that. You are not to mention one word about that whole heat incident while we're here," she bit off angrily, not releasing her hold.

"Ah…" he nodded, understanding lighting his eyes. "So this is like, what, your boyfriend?"

"No," Max snapped defensively, "We're not…he's not my boyfriend." Strangely enough, though it was the same reaction she'd have had at any time, with anyone who'd dared to press the issue (such as Kendra and OC, who'd both taken it upon themselves to do so in the past), she found herself agitated for an entirely different reason than usual.

It was no longer just the knee-jerk reaction she had to the thought of becoming involved with anyone at this point in time, so soon after she'd decided that the general male population was no good for anything but sexual relief (case in point being the man before her…though she had to admit he was a bit - or a lot - better suited to that task than any man she'd met before). This time she felt an undeniable need to clarify her non-relationship with Logan and the resulting state of unattached-ness.

'It's only because he'll just find some reason to make fun of you,' she told herself stubbornly. But even she wasn't delusional enough to believe that.

"No, I guess not," Alec mused on, oblivious to her inner battle. He shrugged out of her now lax grip, and her hand fell back to her side. "I mean, if he **was** your boyfriend, and you were in heat, why would you be hanging out in some bar, waiting to hook up with a random stranger?"

"Shut up."

But alas, as she'd discovered over the limited period of time she had spent with him, when Alec sank his teeth into something he deemed interesting, it always took a few whacks over the head with the newspaper for him to finally let go.

"'Cuz in that case, you'd be at your Sugar Daddy's place, gettin' - "

"He's not my Sugar Daddy!" Max hissed as she turned to jimmy open the window. "And since we're here now, and about to go in, let me once again reiterate: **shut up**!"

He could see she was angry now, not just that general aggravation that seemed ever present during their encounters - but also, just a hint of desperation that made him rethink his next snide remark. He shrugged, letting it go. Hey, who was he to deny a lady a request? Although, Alec mused, he had serious doubts as to whether Max could ever be termed anything nearly so refined as a 'lady'.

He followed her through the large bay window, realizing only when he was a good third of the way through that she had opened it just enough to let her own small form through, forcing him to twist and turn awkwardly as he attempted to pry it open further while sliding the rest of the way through. In the end, he fell somewhat gracelessly to the wooden floor, his transgenic reflexes allowing him to spring up just fast enough that, to the normal human eye, his arrival appeared flawless.

But instead of dwelling on the incident, he quickly brushed off his clothes and took the opportunity to glance around and take note of his surroundings. They appeared to be standing in a very large living room, but before he could examine it in greater detail, a small but surprisingly strong finger was jabbing him, **hard**, in the chest.

"And don't steal anything!"

He gave her the most innocent look he could muster…but, having spent his entire life within Manticore, where "innocent" was about as foreign to their language as the Koran, one could hardly blame him if he fell a little short of the mark.

Max rolled her eyes and stalked further into the room. "Logan?" she called out, her voice suddenly and dramatically warmer than it had been a moment earlier.

'Logan,' Alec mimicked, with a grimace. He didn't like this man, he decided immediately. The name alone was enough to sway his opinion…and the fact that Max was so obviously interested in him beyond platonic levels, had absolutely nothing to do with it. Not a thing…no relevance whatsoever.

'A river, a river in Egypt,' a voice sang out happily in his head. Strangely enough, it wasn't the voice of anyone he recognized. No one he'd ever met was that cheery, seeing as most of the people he knew were from Manticore. Being cheery in Manticore was the fair equivalent to putting a sticky note on one's forehead reading, "Kill me now." Genetically engineered assassins had little tolerance for perky individuals. Go figure.

"In here," came the response.

Max, who had initially been heading toward the adjoining room where Logan had his computer and Eyes Only accessories set up, turned abruptly and headed into the kitchen, a somewhat subdued Alec trailing behind. She paused briefly in the doorway, smiling at the scene within.

"Hey Logan, Bling."

Logan smiled at her while Bling looked up from the pot he had been tending at the stove. "Hi Max."

Max caught Logan's eye, returning his smile warmly, and was just about to move forward, when a voice piped up behind her, "Hey, I smell food."

Both Logan and Bling glanced up in surprise toward the now scowling Max as she stepped aside to let her companion into the room. Catching sight of the young man - the uncomfortably good-looking young man - beside their cat-burglar-turned-ally, Bling raised a speculative eyebrow, while Logan, looking confused, glanced from Max to Alec, and back to her.

"Max…?"

Alec nudged her lightly with his elbow. "C'mon, Maxie, you're being rude. Introduce us already."

Her jaw clenched tight, and then she took what was probably supposed to be a relaxing deep breath. "Alright," she said, and jumped in, "Logan, Alec; Alec, Logan. Bling, Alec; Alec, Bling. Logan, Bling; Bling, Logan. And me - I'm Max." She paused, glancing around the room. "There, we're all introduced; so can we move this bitch along already?"

The three men nodded at each other, Alec not bothering to move any further into the room, and Logan and Bling, shrugging simultaneously, shook each other's hands.

Max closed her eyes briefly and contemplated whether all men were overgrown children, or just the ones that she was blessed to know. "Logan, Alec's someone I know from…back home." She raised her eyebrows emphatically, hoping he would clue in and secure the privacy they would require for their conversation. But before he could do so, Bling - who Max had always fancied as the male equivalent of Original Cindy - knowing when his presence was no longer required, wisely excused himself.

"I'll just be in the other room," he told Logan, switching off the stove and replacing the lid.

That left the three of them alone. "You're from Manticore," Logan stated. Alec watched him apprehensively, wondering just how much this human knew about Manticore…and how he knew. Surely Max hadn't been stupid enough to tell him? Would she knowingly compromise one of her so-called friends like that?

"Right," Max nodded, looking considerably more enthused about Alec's presence than she had since…well, that initial night. "And check this out…" she moved over to the other transgenic, turning him in place and pulling down the collar of his coat to reveal his barcode. Alec frowned at her manhandling, but let her do it. "494."

"494," Logan repeated, and Alec turned around in time to catch his puzzled frown. "He's not an '09 escapee?"

Shaking her head, Max said, "No, he's not from my unit." Clearly, though, there was a point there that Logan was missing. "But 494, Logan…Ben's designation is 493."

Understanding dawned on the other man's face. "Oh, so they're, what…twins?"

"Twins…clones," she shrugged, "I'm not sure how it works."

"Twins," Alec said quietly. The whole discussion was giving him an uneasy feeling, but he figured at least if he contributed, he could end it all a bit sooner. Plus, he wouldn't have to watch them fumble about as they tried to figure it out. Two pairs of eyes turned toward him expectantly. "Manticore uses human surrogates to carry the genetically engineered embryo to term; artificial insemination is well-documented to result in a higher than normal rate of multiple births. So Manticore doesn't need to clone. That they reserved only for the later generations of the X-series…particularly, the sevens."

"But multiple births with in-vitro fertilization usually involve a lot more than two embryos. We're not talking just twins, but triplets, quadruplets, quintuplets," Logan argued.

Alec met his look steadily. "They didn't need more than two of each. At least not back when they were producing the X5's."

Max's eyes widened. "You mean, the extras, they're just…?" she shook her head, unable to finish the thought.

He shrugged. "Or so I hear. After all, I am only a lowly lab rat. They don't make a habit of sharing their data with the soldiers. But lab techs do get bored, and lonely and they like to talk. Especially after…" he cleared his throat, "afterward."

There was a brief pause, and Logan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Speaking of which, exactly how then is it that you two met?" He glanced between the pair, not noticing the way Max stiffened at his particular choice of wording. "I mean, if you're from Manticore, shouldn't you be trying to take Max back in? Shouldn't you be heading there yourself right about now?"

Alec smiled wryly, waiting for Max to answer. Logan's last question sounded more like a suggestion than simple inquiry. It left him wondering if this whole "he's not my boyfriend" thing ran both ways, or just on Max's end.

"Well, I ah…we ran into each other about three days back - "

"Three days?" Logan interrupted. "And you didn't tell me?"

"I haven't seen you since then," she replied defensively.

"You could've dropped by…you know, like you usually do."

"I've been busy."

"Too busy for a five minute visit?" he returned incredulously.

Alec fought the urge to whistle and glance about the room while twiddling his thumbs. Why did he feel like he'd just stepped into the midst of one of those breakup scenes for a slowly crumbling relationship? Maybe because he had, he thought optimistically.

"Look, Max," Logan continued, "you're the one who wanted me to help you find your brothers and sisters - " Alec's snort was ignored by both " - and if you want me to succeed, you have to tell me everything about your Manticore run-ins. I mean, think about it: he's Ben's **identical** twin…do you realize how much easier it could be to find him now?"

Max froze, her growing irritation suddenly forgotten. When she glanced in Alec's direction, he saw it rather clearly that she **hadn't** thought about that. Of course, given the circumstances and the events of the past few days, one could hardly blame her.

'Fuck,' Alec thought. 'Is she looking at me and seeing her 'brother' now?' He kept his expression blank, but inwardly he was sending death rays in Logan's direction. He just had to point that out, hadn't he?

Finally, Max shook her head and looked back at Logan. "Well, whatever the case, we don't have time for this right now. Lydecker's on our trail; I had a really close call with him at Crash tonight."

Logan blinked. "What? Are you okay…did he see you?" She nodded. "But he doesn't know your name, or where you work?"

"No, but he was talking to Kendra and OC, so I figure it's only a matter of time before he gets that bit of information out of them." She closed her eyes briefly and suppressed the panic that threatened to rise at the thought of her friends in Lydecker's custody, being interrogated by him. Fortunately, there was really nothing of use that they could tell him, and their ignorance would most likely keep them safe. They wouldn't be deemed liabilities.

But it did mean no going back to her apartment. "I have to leave," she said softly. There was an uncomfortable silence, and then Max turned stiffly in his direction. "Alec - "

"Say no more," he interrupted, "This looks like one of those private moments. I'll go join the ranks of those who've been kicked out of conversations tonight." Max nodded, her attention shifting back to Logan. "Oh, and here you go." By instinct, she reached up and caught the tissue box that had been hurtling her way. She turned to glare at Alec, but he was already gone.

Logan waited a heartbeat before continuing the discussion. "We got a little sidetracked along the way; you never did say what he was doing here. And why you're not, you know, trying to kill each other or something."

Max sighed and perched herself on a stool as Logan wheeled over so they had an unobstructed view of one other. "Well, he was on a mission, which he kinda messed up, so now he's decided he isn't going back."

"He kind of messed up," he repeated, "But aren't they all brainwashed into blind loyalty? Wouldn't he still go back for his punishment, eager to please and get back on rotation?"

"No, apparently Manticore's not so forgiving about things like this. Even if they didn't outright kill him, they'd perform so many tests, trying to figure out what went wrong, that he'd just end up wishing he was dead." She shuddered slightly, breaking eye contact with Logan. Not for the first - or last - time in the past decade, she silently thanked Zack for his decision to escape that place.

Logan saw the shadowed look on Max's face that made it obvious what she was thinking, but chose not to comment. Manticore, he realized, was just one of those things in life, the horrors of which one could only truly understand if they'd experienced it themselves. Kind of like being roped into chaperoning the annual mixer for the residents of the Shady Villa Retirement Center…unfortunately, the line between 'chaperone' and 'potential boyfriend' was a rather murky one for the gals at the Villa.

"Okay, so let me see if I've got this straight. Alec's on a mission for Manticore, which he somehow screws up…" Max felt a flash of guilt pass through her; after all, the whole heat incident was hardly under his control, and if he'd 'screwed up', so had she. Still, letting Alec take the fall - so to speak - was a lot better for all involved than telling Logan the truth. "And after he decides he's better off going AWOL, he runs into you… Somehow, you two figure out your common background, then Lydecker spots you at Crash, and now your whole life here in Seattle has been compromised." Well, that sounded about right…except for a slight shift in the sequence of events. Again, something she really didn't have to correct Logan on. "Oh, and you've decided to stick with Alec because of some…strategic reason?" he raised his eyebrows at the last part.

"Well, it's not because we're soul mates," she replied dryly, though at the same time wondering what exactly this 'strategic reason' could be. After all, at least once they were out of Seattle, wouldn't they both be better off on their own? That would give Lydecker two potential trails to follow, and allow them to make their respective escapes more discreetly. Though she had to admit a certain amount of comfort at the idea of being in the presence of a fellow X5 after all these years - even if he wasn't a member of her original unit, and he was about as irritating as a wedgie…

So a strategic reason it must be, even if she had no idea what that was. Maybe she should ask Alec later. He was, after all, the one with all that extra military training; surely he would know.

A heavy silence ensued as the reality of their situation slowly sank in. She was leaving Seattle, probably for good. No more partnership. No more hanging out at his place, raiding his kitchen. No more of…whatever it was that they'd almost had going. Max met Logan's troubled blue eyes, a regretful look in her own.

Suddenly, Logan took a deep breath and straightened his spine as he began wheeling toward the door. "Okay, first thing's first. We need to set you two up with some new I.D.'s so you can get out of the city."

Alec, meanwhile, was acquainting himself with his new best friend, television. Bling watched the other man discreetly, marveling at the enrapt expression, and the way his eyes had lit up the moment he walked into the room and announced, "Hey! T.V.!" He looked like a kid on Christmas morning. Only with more porn. Funny, Bling hadn't even realized Logan got the Playboy channel…

While Alec's attention appeared so devoutly trained on the metal box before him, Bling couldn't help his raging curiosity with respect to Max's new friend…if Alec could indeed be called as such, considering the less than amicable vibes he'd picked up earlier in the kitchen between the two.

"So, Alec, Max said you two knew each other from back…wherever you call home?"

Alec shot the other man a quick glance. "Well, we didn't really know each other, exactly," he said, opting to go for something that vaguely resembled the truth. "More like we had some common acquaintances. I just happened to run into her and well, Max, being the gracious individual she is, offered to show me around town."

Bling gave him an incredulous look. "No offence, but are we talking about the same Max here?"

Alec laughed at his response. Okay, so maybe Max's bitchiness wasn't exclusively directed at him…which gave him some hope for her after all. "No, I guess that's not **exactly** how it happened. But it's close enough, and who am I to besmirch the name of my lovely hostess?"

Alec's attention was drawn back to his…programming…when a particularly flexible blonde entered the scene. Bling coughed uncomfortably, the idea of watching porn with a near stranger just too strange for him. Yet Alec appeared oblivious to his companion's discomfort.

"Well, it looks like she and Logan are talking something heavy in there," he said, shooting a glance toward the kitchen. Not that he could see, or hear, anything. He was basing his judgment on instinct alone. He'd seen the pair together enough times to recognize when something troubling had come up…even if he always ended up leaving the room before the exact nature of this 'trouble' was revealed.

"Logan…" Alec muttered, with a slightly cryptic expression.

Bling look at him, slightly surprised by the sudden intensity of his demeanor. "What?"

Alec shook his head. "He's not what I expected."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know…I wouldn't have guessed him as Max's type."

"And why not?" Bling said curiously.

"Well, he's kinda old, for one," he began hesitantly, unsure not only of his own thoughts, but how to explain them without any mention of Manticore.

Bling laughed. "Age doesn't mean much, my friend."

Alec glanced up sharply, but the other man seemed not to notice his reaction. "And he's rich," he gestured expansively at the apartment - at the various artifacts, each of which were probably worth enough to sustain the average American family for a good month. "Old money rich…blue blood. And I know he doesn't act the part," he continued before Bling could refute the statement, "but he can't change what he is. I'd have figured Max would go for someone a little more familiar with the plight of the common man."

"Logan is familiar with 'the plight of the common man.'"

"Yeah, maybe…through association. But not through experience."

Bling had always considered himself an open-minded individual, and he couldn't, in good conscious, dispute all of Alec's claims. Finally, he just shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe he isn't Max's 'type'…and maybe she isn't his. And maybe that's why things have been going so slow between them. They're still testing the water."

"Yeah, well I think if things are going to work out between two people, they shouldn't have to 'test the water'. They should be able to just jump in, in full cannonball form. If they work out, they work out. And if they don't, move on."

Bling nodded. "That might work for some people…and not for others."

Alec eyed him carefully, expression blank. "Are you gonna tell me to back off?"

"Not my place."

"Good. Because as far as I see it, Max and Logan have missed their chance anyway."

Bling raised a speculative eyebrow, but said nothing. The conversation was effectively ended when the pair in question entered the room, Logan leading the way to his elaborate computer system.

"Right," Max was saying, "but how far can these I.D.'s get us? Lydecker only caught a glimpse of me, so probably the best he's got for now is a description - something that could resemble me, or half the female population of Seattle, depending on how vague it is. But he has Alec's picture on file. It's gonna be pretty damn hard getting through the checkpoints regardless of what name he uses."

"There's always the old-fashioned method," Alec offered, grinning.

"Not if you want to keep your ride," she returned. Suddenly, her eyes widened, and she stood up rigid. "My ride!" she exclaimed. "Damn it, I completely forgot about my ninja!"

"Why, where is it?" Logan inquired, settling himself in front of the computer.

"Back at my apartment. Hey, maybe it's not too late…I can sneak in, get it, get - "

"No!" both Logan and Alec interrupted simultaneously. A very awkward moment passed…filled with confusion and glaring, and one thoroughly amused Bling trying to repress a smile.

"It's too risky," Logan said finally, tearing his eyes away from Alec's heated green gaze to meet Max's. Whatever else he might have had to add, he had to keep to himself, for the sake of Bling's ignorance.

"Wait a minute," Bling cut in as her earlier words sank in. "You're leaving town?"

"Um, yeah, for a little while."

Alec glanced sharply at Max following her reply. 'A little while?' She was planning on coming back here eventually? He'd been under the impression that the move was going to be a permanent one…that would be the logical way about it.

'Well there you go,' a little voice inside his head told him. 'There's no way Max would opt for the **logical** solution.' He also didn't miss the slight, hopeful glint in Logan's eye at her words.

"Are you in trouble?" he asked, his forehead creasing in worry lines.

Max grinned, a self-confident gesture - or a reassuring one. "Nothing I can't handle." Alec rolled his eyes. Judging from the glare that transformed out of her pleasant expression, Max caught the gesture. He smiled charmingly in return.

"And you two" - Bling indicated at the two transgenics - "are leaving together?"

Alec tried not to smirk too triumphantly as Max nodded in affirmation and he watched the aforementioned glint in Logan's eye disappear. Nanner, nanner, was probably also an inappropriate response.

"But my bike," Max moaned, remembering her earlier concern.

"You can always get a new one," Alec suggested, not understanding why he was the only one to point out this obvious fact. Of course, he also seemed to be the only one who couldn't comprehend the sentimental value said bike might have for its owner.

"It's not the same," she said with a slight pout. But the sigh of resignation she gave a moment later indicated that she saw the futility of the argument. A bike, no matter how much it meant to her, was not worth risking capture over. Death, maybe, but not capture. She **really** loved that bike.

Finally - for Alec, and all too soon for Max - it was time to go. The I.D.'s, they'd decided against, figuring it'd take up too much precious time, and would hardly have been worth it. Instead, they'd resolved to 'pick up' a couple of sector passes ('steal' was the word someone else in their place might have used…but alas, some people possess no tact), and hope that'd do the trick. If all else failed, they could kick some sector cop ass and force their way through. It wasn't a recommended plan of action on a day-to-day basis, but Max figured if she was going to leave Seattle, she might as well indulge some of her repressed urges. She still hadn't forgot the trouble she'd gone through with her bike that last time…

Bling had left some time earlier, having a previous engagement to make. He gave Max a thorough hug before his departure, and Alec a friendly handshake. He didn't mention the Max and Logan issue again, but he did fix Alec with a pointed stare that the younger man wasn't quite sure how to interpret.

When it came time to make their own exit, Max and Logan quietly exited the room, leaving a restless Alec to wait for them.

"So," Logan began.

"So," Max said simultaneously.

They both laughed, the tension easing a little in the process. "You need any money?"

"Nah," she replied, "I'm good for a while." Fortunately, she hadn't had a chance to pay Vogelsang yet, leaving her with the majority of her share from that last job she'd pulled with Alec. Not to mention whatever amount Alec had from his own half.

"Okay," Logan nodded. He watched her a while longer before continuing, "You know, you can always come back later, when things have settled down." He gave a small shrug. "For the bike, of course."

"Yeah, I guess I could," she agreed, then shrugged as well, "For my bike, of course." They shared another smile, watching each other across the expanse of the kitchen.

'What are you waiting for?' Max asked herself. 'It's now or never.' She squared her shoulders, stood up straight, and abruptly closed the gap between them, before she lowered herself to his level and moved her mouth over his. He seemed a little startled by the action, but it took him only a second before he began to respond.

The kiss was as soft and sweet as she'd imagined…but nothing more. No magic, no spark - none of that 'indefinable something' that she'd come to expect to find in this moment. And certainly none of that mindless lust she'd experienced with Alec the other day (of course, that was due mostly to the heat anyway). But most surprisingly, she had to admit, was the fact that it didn't bother her nearly as much as she thought it should have.

She pulled away slowly, her hands bracing his face while his one cupped her jaw. A similar sort of revelation was reflected in Logan's eyes. His lips parted, to speak, when the sudden clearing of a throat broke them apart.

Max straightened immediately, backing away from Logan almost guiltily as she glanced toward the doorway. Alec stood watching them impassively. "We should get going."

"Oh, okay," Max nodded, looking flustered, "Um, I'll see you, Logan."

He nodded, though somewhat dubious of the predictive value of her words. "I'll tell Kendra to look after your bike."

Alec watched him a second longer, then gave a curt nod before leaving the apartment with the woman that Logan could have loved following behind.


	9. Chapter 9

Big shout out to the betas -- Kiwichick and BHG.

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They Didn't Train Me for This

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_- Chapter 9 -_

Max shifted in her seat, resting her head against the cool window as she glanced out at the passing scenery with unseeing eyes. Alec had been driving for the past seven hours, turning down each of her offers to take his place. It was probably for the best anyhow - shark DNA or no shark DNA, she was having a hard time of keeping her thoughts at bay and concentrating on her surroundings. She could only hope that Alec was keeping a diligent eye on their progress, making sure they were indeed not being followed.

The hours were passing by quite mindlessly, the soft music from the radio the only thing breaking the silence. She'd tried sleeping, but her body refused her even that little solace. Then she'd tried pretending to sleep, just so she wouldn't have to keep up any conversation that she was in no condition to handle anyway.

Her thoughts moved in a circle, always eventually returning to Seattle and the life she'd built there over the past two years. The life that she had dropped and run from, just like that. Not even a goodbye to her friends - Kendra, OC, Herbal, Sketchy…what would they think of her leaving abruptly in the middle of the night without a word? Maybe Logan would tell them something, something that would quell their concern, and hopefully soften the inevitable blow to their feelings.

The first few hours, after the initial tension of the "escape" had faded, were quite awkward. Or at least, for Max they were. She'd found that when she wasn't irritated with him - which, admittedly, were moments few and far between - she really had no idea what to say to Alec. She supposed the discomfort stemmed from the fact that she couldn't exactly define what he was to her. And with no neat category in which to place him - i.e. friend, co-worker, lo…um, thorn in her side - she could not, thus, treat him accordingly.

At one point she would have dismissed him as a one-night stand, yet another mistake made in the midst of her heat cycles. Even after their unexpected reunion of sorts during the museum heist, she was perfectly fine with this label. It wasn't as if she'd never run into one of her heat mistakes after the fact. Usually, she had a hard time shaking them after the night of mindless sex.

But present circumstances were making it very difficult to maintain this usual response. As of the moment when she left Logan's apartment - and her life in Seattle behind her - Alec became the only constant from her past to her present. Which was a scary thought indeed, considering how little she knew of **his** past. Or his motivations. She knew why **she'd** decided to stay with him; he was one of her 'own'…regardless of the fact that he'd never been a part of her unit. But over the course of the past decade, he was the first X-series she had ever knowingly come across, and that alone was reason enough for her reluctance to part ways with him. Now that she knew he wasn't planning to turn her over to Manticore. After all, the guy had saved her from Lydecker, even though it'd probably be a dry month in Seattle before she'd ever admit that to Alec.

But still, it begged the question of just what he thought he was getting out of this little partnership. After all, it wasn't like he needed her help, what with the years of additional training he had on her. And it wasn't like she'd been all that nice to him in the few days that they'd known each other. And it wasn't like she was lusting after him, waiting for the first opportunity to welcome him into her bed for a repeat performance of the other night.

Okay, maybe that was partially a lie…but she was **not** going to welcome him into her bed - or any other place that might be deemed suitable for such activities. She had morals, principles, or some other shit like that.

Max squeezed her eyes shut and stifled a sigh as she squirmed in her seat once more.

Alec watched from his peripheral vision as Max readjusted herself for perhaps the thirtieth time in the past five minutes. Part of him wanted to tell her to quit, because it was annoying as hell, and if she really had that much pent-up energy to dispel, he could think of far more interesting ways in which to do it. But another part told him that there was obviously something up, and the decent thing to do was inquire after whatever it was that was so heavily weighing on her mind. The first part snorted, returning with a remark about when had he ever opted to do the decent thing.

Both parts - whom he had mentally dubbed '494' and 'Alec', respectively, to lessen the confusion (as confusion is inevitable when one has warring voices conversing inside one's head); and because 'Alec', like the pseudonym itself, had made his debut only sometime after Max entered his life - were quite astounded when he opened his mouth a few moments later, and this tumbled out: "Are you alright?"

'494' scratched his figurative head in confusion, and then dispelled a sigh at the inevitable lack of forthcoming sex. Of course, he acknowledged, it had been a slim possibility to begin with…but, hey, he was a man! He had to _try_.

'Alec' then proceeded to do a bit of gloating. Apparently, even he was not without flaw.

Max's eyes snapped open and she turned toward Alec (the physical one), in something akin to surprise. Then suspicion eked its way into her already hyperactive brain as she immediately began to question his motivation in asking that particular question. Her gaze narrowed as she took in his profile, while his remained focused on the road. But his expression, inscrutable as ever, revealed nothing to her probing stare.

"Fine," she replied tersely, consciously straightening in her seat as she crossed her arms over her chest.

She knew it was rather childish, but she couldn't help but feel annoyed that she hadn't done as excellent a job at shielding her misery as she'd thought. She'd always prided herself on her ability to cover her emotions - it was what helped her keep the people in her life a healthy arm's length away. She was supposed to be the human fog bank, wasn't she?

It just wasn't fair that he'd read her so easily, and she could never tell what was going on in that head of his. Hell, most of the time she couldn't tell what was going on in her own head.

As he glanced over in her direction briefly, '494' rolled his eyes. Then he glared at 'Alec'. Happy now? Look what good that did. 'Alec' bowed his head momentarily, before giving his counterpart a plaintiff look. Hey, I'm new! Give me a chance to work the bugs out.

Physical Alec frowned slightly as he realized that the conversation inside his head was getting a whole lot livelier than the one outside of it - and he recognized the sign for what it was: Time to take a break.

When the sound of gravel crunching under tires reached her ears, Max's attention returned to their surroundings. Seeing that they had pulled into a gas station, her gaze flickered to the fuel gage to find the needle currently reading half full.

"Why are we stopping?" she said, twisting in her seat and covering every direction with a thorough perusal.

"We've been on the road all morning; I figured we could both stretch our legs," he explained, turning the car into a patch of gravel that was trying - and rather poorly at that - to disguise itself as a parking stall. Rocks dislodged in the process flew up, leaving small scratches in the shiny black coating of the vehicle. But that was something of more concern to the car's owner than to either Max or Alec…that is, if the poor schmoe - speaking in a strictly figuratively sense here - ever got to see his lovely new Mercedes again. "And maybe you could go fix that wedgie you've been sporting for the last couple of hours."

Alec noted, with some satisfaction, the gaping of Max's mouth as she was momentarily rendered speechless.

"I do not have a wedgie!"

And the moment, all too brief that it was, ended.

"Really?" he returned with mock surprise. "And here I was crediting your bitchy attitude to a physical discomfort - when, actually, it's just a personality flaw." He threw open the door, exiting the car before she could respond, and resigning her to yet another moment of her trout-out-of-water imitation.

When Max caught up to him just outside the door of the convenience store slash gas station, he was a little surprised to see she didn't appear at all angry. In fact, she smiled up sweetly at him - and he felt a rush of satisfaction with the knowledge that whatever her earlier troubling thoughts, they had at least temporarily been forgotten.

"I'll have you know, I don't consider it a flaw."

Before he could consider the depth of meaning behind her words, she skipped ahead of him - yes, he swore she _skipped_ - bounding through the door just in time to slam it shut in his face. Pausing only to stick out her tongue, she laughed and moved off deeper into the store.

Shaking his head slightly, Alec followed her inside. A bell chimed at his entrance, and the other occupants of the store - a bored-looking clerk and a pair of teenaged girls - looked over. The man returned to what was, in most likelihood, the latest edition of Guns & Ammo lying open on the counter in front of him, while the girls proceeded to send none too subtle appreciative glances in his direction. Alec smiled faintly in return, which caused them both to burst into a round of giggles and hushed whispering. Of course, had he been even faintly interested in the content of their conversation - or incapable of surmising it based on their present behavior and everything he knew about the general female populace, Max excluded - he would have had no difficulty listening in. Instead, he bee-lined toward the coffee machine.

"Sweet elixir of the gods," he mumbled under his breath as he hurriedly approached his destination.

While he was watching the brown liquid stream into the pot at an achingly slow pace, the sweet aroma rising up to taunt his sensitive nose, Max materialized at his side. Leaning her hip against the counter, she pulled a cherry red sucker from her mouth and licked her lips, her gaze settled somewhere over Alec's shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow, his attention momentarily diverted from his coffee. "You pay for that?"

The small scowl on Max's face lifted as she looked over at him and her full lips turned up in a smile. "Nope. But I know you're good for it."

"Yeah?" he said, trying not to watch as the lollipop ascended, once again, to her mouth. "And you know that because…?"

"Because, it's the gentlemanly thing to do, to front the bill."

Alec gave a brief laugh. "I hate to break it to you, Max, but Chivalry 101 was not part of Manticore's curriculum."

"No problem," she replied. "I'll give you the abridged version. Lesson Number One: A gentleman always pays for the lady."

"Yeah, when I see a lady, I'll be sure to remember that." The coffee, mercifully finished brewing, beckoned him.

"Very funny." Max barely restrained herself from hitting him as he began to pour the hot liquid into a cup.

With the lapse in the conversation as Alec set about his task, her attention returned to the sight that had been irritating her since the pair had entered the store - Ditzy and Slutty, who were, even throughout the transgenics' entire conversation, sending lustful looks in Alec's direction with absolutely no regard for the concept of discretion.

"That is so pathetic," she muttered.

"What is?" Alec asked, glancing up from his coffee preparation to follow Max's line of sight. "Aw, they're just a couple of teenaged girls," he shrugged dismissively, tossing a couple of empty sugar packets and creamer containers into the garbage. "No harm in that."

When he turned back from his impressively - though unsurprisingly - accurate free-throw shot, he was greeted by a withering chocolate colored glare. She propped her hands up on her hips. "Teenaged girls? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

For a moment, he merely stared back in bewilderment, having absolutely no clue as to why she would have taken offence at the remark. Then, like the proverbial light bulb going off in his head, he realized that Max herself fell within the parameters of this category. Of course, it wasn't as if he, at the ripe old age of twenty, was far off from it either. It was just that with his life's experience he had a hard time equating himself with the ordinaries of his peer group…most of whom, in there sheltered existences, had never even dreamt of some of the things he'd seen and done. Being from Manticore herself, he had unconsciously assumed the same of Max.

Then he looked at her - truly looked at her - and his heavy thoughts disappeared on the spot. She hardly made an intimidating figure with the white stick of the lollipop propped between her lips, and the slight bulge in her cheek where she'd pushed the candy aside to allow her to speak, giving her a mildly squirrel-like appearance.

The coffee balanced in one hand, he leaned forward and gently pulled the sucker from her mouth and slipped it into his own. He gave it a thorough swirl with his tongue, his gaze locked with hers the entire time. Enjoying immensely the almost imperceptible widening of her eyes, he then removed the candy and held it out to her.

Max eyed it a moment, then reached out a hesitant hand and took back the proffered item.

"Don't worry Maxie," he assured her softly. "I hardly consider you a 'girl'." Suppressing a smirk, he turned and headed toward the cash register.

He sent a single surreptitious glance in her direction, watching the deliberation that was apparent on her face as she regarded the candy. After a moment, she reinserted it in her mouth, and the smirk that he had been fighting finally spread out wide over his lips.

He placed his coffee down carefully, his attention going to the pile of items already cluttering the span of the counter.

"I'm just saying, some subtlety would be a little more dignified," Max said, stepping up beside him a second later. "And all this," she told the cashier, waving a hand over the pile, ignoring the slight choking sound that came from Alec's direction. "I mean, how do they know that you and me aren't…together?"

He stared at her incredulously, raising his eyebrows at her words. "You **want** them to think we're together?"

"No!" she said hastily. Too hastily, she decided, cursing herself mentally. "I just don't like how they automatically assume we're not. I mean, we're obviously traveling together; we sure as hell don't look like we're related…why would they think that we're not - " she completed the sentence with a vague gesture.

"Making it like wild monkeys at every available opportunity?" Alec supplied helpfully, handing over a wad of cash to cover the large bill that Max had managed to ring up with her little shopping spree.

"Involved." She glared at him then turned to watch as the cashier - who hadn't shown even the slightest bit of interest in their conversation - listlessly tossed the items into a bag. She grabbed it from him and headed toward the exit.

"Maybe, because you're walking around without a limp," Alec whispered into her ear, appearing close beside her. "With a stud like me, they just know that couldn't be possible if we were…involved."

Max scoffed, pulling away from him in order to reassert the concept of 'personal space'. "Oh right, I'm sure it's possible that's what they were thinking. It's also possible that they've recently been consuming paint chips - which would, incidentally, explain the first part too."

"Oh come off it, Max," he grinned at her, "are you telling me that after our little 'date', you didn't have just the tiniest bit of difficulty sitting on that bike seat to make all those deliveries?"

The immediate reddening of her cheeks confirmed his suspicion, as well as the fact that it might have been more than just 'the tiniest bit' of difficulty.

Alec laughed as she grumbled obscenities under her breath.

"Wait," Max said, coming to a halt as they reached the car. "My turn to drive."

"No, it's okay; I'm fine. Besides, I've got this," he raised the coffee cup slightly.

"Well I don't need that," she said haughtily. "And you don't have to worry about me falling asleep at the wheel. I have - "

"Shark DNA. I know."

"How…"

Alec gave her a look. "What? You really think Manticore would have sent me after you without giving me a bit of background on you and your unit?" He pulled open the door and slipped into the driver's seat, leaving Max no choice but to get into the passenger side.

"Nice to see you worked that wedgie out," he said after a while, breaking the silence once they'd returned to the road, resuming their previous pace.

Without thought, she smacked him across the shoulder.

"Hey!" he said, barely saving himself from a potentially nasty coffee spilling incident. Double-checking to ensure that the lid was securely in place, he shifted the cup to his other hand - the one farther from Max's reach. "You know, I could be wrong. It could be the fact that you smack me around like a stepchild that gives us away."

She snorted. "Who knows, maybe you like being the bitch in the relationship."

"No, that's your job." He prepared himself for the inevitable hit, but when it didn't come, he glanced over at her. A junior mint bounced off his forehead.

Alec shook his head as she sniggered. "See, I wouldn't take this kind of abuse from anyone I was involved with…no matter how hot she was."

"First of all, I never once smacked you in front of those girls. And second…" she paused, glancing over at him with veiled uncertainty, "you think I'm hot?"

"I'm a heterosexual male with a fully functioning libido - and **eyes**. Of course I think you're hot."

"Oh yeah, then what about that whole 'I prefer blondes' thing?"

He shrugged. "A man has to make do with what he's got."

This time she did hit him. "You haven't 'got' me."

"Careful Maxie. I told you I don't go for this type of thing. Keep it up and you might just lose your chance with me."

Max rolled her eyes, leaning back in her seat to pop a junior mint into her mouth. "As devastating as that possibility sounds, I think I'd recover."

Alec grinned slyly, "Oh, I'm sure you will. After all, we've both experienced first-hand, your phenomenal healing abilities."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Thanks to Deb for helping me make this more coherent (and she reaallly had her work cut out for her this time. Don't you just hate those long-ass chapters?).

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They Didn't Train Me for This 

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_- Chapter 10 -_

Alec had finally almost drifted to sleep for the first time in over thirty hours when Max slammed the brakes so hard he was jerked against the seatbelt with enough force, he was sure, to leave a lasting imprint of the narrow strap covering him from shoulder to hip.

"What the fuck!" he exclaimed, snapping to awareness faster than he'd ever had to during any of his missions. With wide-eyed disbelief he stared at the brunette who had, somehow, coaxed her way behind the wheel a couple of hours earlier. He still wasn't quite sure how she'd managed that… All he recalled was that one minute he was answering her something along the lines of "no way in hell", which she seemed to accept with, oddly enough, little protest. Then she was settling in for a nap…removing her jacket, which she balled up to use as a pillow, and stretching and wriggling into all sorts of positions in an effort to get comfortable, and –

Well, there she was. Driving. Or at least making one coronary inducing attempt at it.

The tires squealed as they fought for some sort of traction on the wet surface of the road, before the vehicle finally lurched to a stop, far from that "on a dime" point advertised by the manufacturer. Slowly Max turned in her seat, gazing at him with eyes large and calm.

"There's a tree on the road," she said.

Alec blinked. With remarkable composure, he turned his head to stare out the windshield. And true enough, there it was – blocking the entire road from one end to the other.

"It's really big," she observed casually, "I thought driving through it might not be a good idea."

Alec looked back in her direction and raised a single eyebrow at her remark. "And you couldn't have come to a more gradual stop?"

Max shrugged and looked away. "I didn't see it before."

Silence.

"You didn't see a thirty-foot long piece of log lying across the road?"

"Hey, it's dark," she said, her voice taking on a slightly defensive tone, "It was raining pretty heavy."

Neither of which should have made much of a difference with her night-vision and superior eyesight…but Alec displayed enough restraint not to mention that. Oh, okay, he didn't quite get a chance to display his restraint, because before he could mention it – or not – Max cast him a sideways glance.

"I was changing c.d.'s," she confessed.

Alec stared at her. 'She was changing…?'

Then he shook his head, deciding it wasn't worth the trouble of dwelling on it, and reached for the clasp of his seatbelt. By the time Max caught on and followed suit, he was already standing in front of the car, illuminated by the bluish-white glow of the headlights as he examined the obstruction lying across their path.

"Wait a minute," Max said, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket as she joined him out in the rain. "No freaking out, telling me how irresponsible that was? How I could've gotten us both killed, or horribly maimed, or…something?"

Alec kicked the tree lightly and glanced at her over his shoulder. "Nah, I figure you know all that." He shrugged. "'Sides, can't say I'd never do the same thing myself."

"Huh." Max paused, her expression mildly contemplative, as she muttered, "Logan wouldn't have let me get away with that." Well, he might not have freaked out, exactly…but he probably would've given her one of his mini speeches at the very minimum. Not that she would necessarily have listened…but she'd kind of gotten used to hearing it, at least.

"Sounds like a fun guy," Alec observed with an eye roll, his back toward her.

"He is," she answered, oblivious to his sarcasm, or opting to ignore it, "Well, sometimes…when he's not busy working and stuff." Of course, she would be hard-pressed to mention a time when Logan wasn't working, but that was only because he was so dedicated to his whole… operation. Max knew there was a fun guy lurking underneath that stiff exterior somewhere. She'd seen glimpses of him from time to time, and she'd been determined to bring that guy out to the surface – even if she'd have had to bring him kicking and screaming. The way she figured it, any relationship she chose to pursue with Logan would end one of two ways: he'd adopt more of the carefree, fun-loving attitude she'd molded over the years, or she'd develop more of the straight-laced crusader of the people thing he had going. And there was no way in hell she could see the latter happening…

Alec didn't reply so Max settled herself back against the hood of the car, grimacing slightly as cold rainwater seeped into the seat of her jeans.

"So," she said shortly, "what's the plan?"

Alec tested the weight of the tree, grasping it with both hands and trying to coax it a couple of inches forward while Max enjoyed the view. The very, very pleasant view, she had to admit. Those Manticore scientists really knew what they were doing…at least when it came to the aesthetics of genetic engineering. Finally, acknowledging that it wasn't about to give any time soon, he released it and stepped back, wiping his hands on the thighs of his pants.

"Well it's not moving so long as it's in one piece," he concluded.

Max slid down until she was sitting on the bumper and propped her elbows on her legs, placing her chin in her palms. "What if…we moved the car over the tree?"

Alec looked from the car to the tree, and back to the car again. "I really doubt that thing is any lighter than the tree."

"Yeah, you're right." Max glanced over her shoulder. "Damn sturdy German automobile. We should've stolen one of those ugly little hatchbacks with no leg room instead."

"You wouldn't let me," Alec reminded her. "Not once you saw this baby," he hooked his thumb in the direction of the Mercedes. "You wouldn't even let me look at another car after that."

"Can you blame me?" Max blinked up at him as rain fell into her eyes. "Look how nice and shiny it is. And it has leather – leather – upholstery. How many cars can you say that about these days?" Besides, if she was going to have to ditch her bike, her favorite mode of transportation, she sure as hell wasn't going to do it for just any old piece of rust and metal. Sentimental value was one thing…but she had the feeling she could become very attached to this particular beauty, very quickly. Too bad they were going to have to ditch it soon. She frowned unconsciously at the thought.

"Yeah, well. There's nothing to do about it right now," he informed her. "I'm driving," he added just by way of clarification, as he was already on the driver's side and reaching for the handle of the door by the time Max got to her feet. She rolled her eyes and sauntered over to the passenger side.

"Of course he was going to hold that whole almost driving us into a tree thing against me…" she muttered.

She flicked her damp hair back from her face, once inside the car, sending droplets of water across the interior. Alec blinked rapidly as a particularly large one hit him directly in the eye. He glanced over at Max, but she was oblivious, her attention absorbed elsewhere as she fiddled with the climate control. She'd been infatuated with the feature since they first jacked the car – "Dual side controls!" she'd announced, loudly, right in his ear while he was in the midst of hotwiring their latest acquisition – and had used every opportunity to fiddle with both sides…thereby essentially negating the usefulness of the "dual" part, in Alec's opinion…but hey, if fiddling with the little knobs kept her entertained, who was he to complain?

"Backtracking to the last major turnoff we passed is going to mean losing time and ground," she was saying as she settled back into her seat.

"Not if we don't go for the turnoff."

Alec threw the car in reverse, turning it on the narrow road.

"Okaay…and where are you planning on going?" she said slowly, as if speaking to a child…a particularly slow child. "Right through the trees?"

"No," he said in an equally deliberate tone, "but there has to be a house, or something, somewhere along the way. We'll just stop at the first one we come by, and borrow a chainsaw…or an axe…or a really big knife – whatever they have to offer – and get that tree out of the way."

"And when you say 'borrow', do you mean borrow, borrow? Or, you know, borrow, borrow?"

"Uh, lemme think," Alec scratched his chin thoughtfully, "which one of those is code for 'steal'?"

Max rolled her eyes.

"Call me crazy, but maybe we could actually try asking first." While she may have relied on cat burglary to support her extracurricular activities – i.e. searching for her siblings – she just didn't find the idea of robbing the common folk appealing. The independent heads of criminal enterprises, and people with generally too much money, fine. But everyone else was off limits. "Just ply on that charm I'm sure you have hidden away somewhere."

"It's not hidden away," he protested. "It just goes into…strategic retreat…whenever you're around. Not like it'd work on you anyway, right?"

Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that he got more enjoyment out of irritating her, than he would've from some inevitably fruitless attempt at making nice.

'Besides, a little friction only makes our relationship all the more interesting.'

Whoa, hold on there, where did that come from? Did he just call – well, think – what he had with Max a…relationship?

Alec shook his head, forcing himself to focus on what Max was saying.

"Well, give it a try," she told him. "It's better than going all Thelma and Louise."

Alec frowned. Maybe he wasn't quite as up to par on his pop culture references as the next guy, but… "Why Thelma and Louise? I mean, why not, say…Bonnie and Clyde?"

Max blinked and pursed her lips contemplatively. She inclined her head thoughtfully, her gaze trained straight ahead. Then, finally, she shrugged. "I dunno. I guess I just pictured you more as a Thelma than a Bonnie."

Alec rolled his eyes, "Cute, Max, really cute."

"Well I do try my very best," she replied as she turned her attention to the radio. She flicked through the stations rapidly, eventually settling on something random. The reception was a little poor, due to the weather, but soon the sound of soft music filled the interior of the car. It was something of a generic variety, but it worked just fine with the present ambience.

Max leaned back against the headrest and emitted a yawn.

"What happened to that shark DNA?" Alec asked.

"Still there." She rolled her head on the seat until she was looking at him. "Unfortunately, those Manticore doctors never came up with any DNA to combat boredom. At least not last I'd heard…but I guess you'd be more up to date on that sort of stuff anyway." She yawned again, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. "Road trips aren't nearly as interesting as they make them out to be in the movies."

"Don't worry. I'm sure we'll hit a moose, or something, eventually."

"Yeah, about that," Max began, sitting up a little straighter. It was a subject she hadn't been sure how to broach, her mind returning to it every so often, ever since they'd left Seattle. But now seemed as good a time as any…

"About hitting a moose?" Alec said, raising an eyebrow and earning a frown from Max in turn.

"About the 'eventually' part."

"Oh." Well, that made a tad more sense. For a moment there, he'd been worried that maybe she'd taken a little too much stock in those road trip movies she'd just mentioned. He liked TV and all, but he preferred to keep the line between reality and fiction clearly defined. Not that he had any idea what she was talking about now but, still, it was comforting. "Yeah?"

"Well, you know, I was just wondering," Max began awkwardly. And then she couldn't help the spark of irritation she felt at that. Since when did she have a problem being up front and speaking her mind? What was she afraid of, hurting his feelings? Yeah, afraid of hurting the feelings of a trained assassin – that was a real laugh. "How long are we doing this? Sticking together, I mean. I figure leaving Seattle together was strategic, or something, but we're gonna split up eventually, right? And, well…"

"You wanna know when?" he finished off.

"Right. Exactly."

"Well," he said carefully, "I figured until we were sure Lydecker wasn't on our trail any more." Cocking an eyebrow at her, his manner was lighter as he said, "You get yourself caught, and it could be my ass on the line too."

Max glared at him.

"Why do you assume I'd be the one he'd catch first? I've got way more experience than you with this whole being on the run thing. And," she continued, another thought forming, "I bet Manticore considers you a whole lot more of a liability than me or the rest of my unit. You've probably got the inside scoop on a lot of their shit."

"Hey, let's not forget the fact that I found you, so I'm sure Lydecker and his lackeys wouldn't have been far behind anyway."

"Yeah, you found me – but there's no way in hell I would've let you take me in."

Alec smirked as he suppressed a chuckle. "How do you figure that?"

Max mustered as much attitude as she could fit into her response; "I figure that because I would've kicked your ass if you'd tried."

He couldn't help it; this time he laughed out loud, and much to Max's mounting irritation. "I'm sure you would have," he said in a tone that only stoked the fire.

"If you don't believe me, you can pull over this car and I'll show you right now."

"You want to fight me?"

"What's the matter?" she said, tilting her head and peering at him through her eyelashes. But the sly grin that graced her lips made him think less about fighting, and more about…well, other things. "You afraid?"

Alec shook his head, dismissing the thought quickly. "You know what, forget it. It really doesn't matter what might've happened…because it didn't. You went into heat, and that's that." And then, because he just couldn't resist such a lovely opportunity, he had to tack on, "Unless, of course, that was just a part of your strategy…in which case, you can 'kick my ass' any day."

Max glowered and crossed her arms over her chest. "I cannot wait until it's 'safe enough' for us to go our separate ways."

Alec only laughed.

It was late by the time they pulled onto the stretch of gravel that led eventually to the first house along their way. The rain had eased up a fair amount, coming down now in a light drizzle. Max hesitated slightly as she reached the threshold of the modest-sized, what might've once been white building, wondering if they were going to end up dragging someone out of bed. She had decided to accompany Alec on the expedition, in case he decided to go for the whole "borrow, borrow" thing…or whichever it was.

Alec's thoughts were on a similar trail as well, but his were accompanied by the image of a trigger-happy, shotgun-toting hillbilly looking to protect his dirt farm. Not that there was much dirt to protect – just trees, more trees and now, mud. Of course, he was pretty good at dodging bullets…

He reached out, striking the door twice, rapidly, with his knuckles.

"Oh, right," Alec snapped his fingers, twisting to face her abruptly. "What's our cover story?"

Max turned toward him blankly. "Cover story?"

"Yeah, you know, something for if they ask questions…and in case anyone else comes by asking questions. To throw 'em off track." Just as the porch light flickered on, Alec said excitedly, "Oh, I got a great one."

The sparkle in his eyes left an uneasy feeling in the pit of Max's stomach, but with the door already opening, it was too late to do anything about it.

"Don't do anything stupid," was all she had time to manage, the words coming out in a low hiss. But the too innocent look on his face all but assured her that was exactly what he intended to do. Or he was just having fun at her expense…in either case she had a difficult time keeping her hand still at her side. It tingled with the overwhelming desire to smack him upside the head, until she balled it into a fist and forced away her disgruntled expression.

A set of pale eyes peered out at them, squinting from behind a pair of reading glasses through the partially open doorway. A slightly rounded, craggy face soon followed, backlit by a warm yellow light as more and more of the room beyond became revealed.

"You're not lookin' to sell me anything, are you?" the man asked, scratching his salt and pepper hair with one hand, a steaming mug held in the other. He was dressed in a pair of dark sweatpants and slippers and a robe that was struggling valiantly to encircle his generous waistline.

"No sir, we're not," Alec said, grinning brightly.

If Max wanted to see him work the charm, then he'd work the charm…like a snake. No, wait, like a snake charmer. Which, come to think of it, was kind of redundant with the whole "charm" thing, and he really should have gone with a different analogy…

The man nodded. "We don't usually get those door-to-door sales people out this far, but…I figure our luck'll run out eventually."

"Frank, who's at the door?" a feminine voice called out from within the house.

"I don't know, Maddie," Frank threw out over his shoulder, "I just opened the damn thing!"

"Well, invite them in, whoever it is! Can't you see how cold and wet it is out there?"

"I was just about to do that!" Frank shouted back. He turned back to his guests and rolled his eyes, sharing a look with Alec, as if to say "women".

Frank took a step back, opening the door the remainder of the way, "Well, you heard the woman…come on in, before she starts up with her screeching again." But there was a softness in his tone that belied the harsh words.

Max led the way inside, cocking an eyebrow when Alec stepped back with a gallant gesture of his arm.

'No Chivalry 101, huh…?'

Then she angled her body away from their host – whose attention was momentarily diverted – elbowing Alec, hard, in the stomach when he purposely leaned in too close just as she was passing by. His breath left him in a soft whoosh, hot air hitting the side of her neck in the process, and she stumbled somewhat ungracefully in the next couple of steps…as her foot somehow hooked on Alec's outstretched leg.

"Careful there Maxie," she heard him say in a low voice as his hands closed around her waist.

Frank turned back toward the pair just as Max was reaching for the offending appendages, ready to thrust them off of her body. Seeing his congenial expression as he observed the pair before him, she reluctantly settled for clasping Alec's hands in her own, and leaning back against his chest.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she said a little breathily, flashing Alec a wide smile even as her eyes promised retribution, "I'm such a klutz today." Her heel came down on his toe, discreetly, to punctuate the comment.

Alec subtly pulled his foot out from under hers, widening his stance just in case she chose to attempt a repeat of that particular move.

"It's just all the excitement catching up to you," he told her, tugging her body back even closer against his. He buried his grin in her hair when she tensed against him, relishing the way she stiffened even further then. Especially because he knew what was coming next…

"Excitement?" Frank said curiously.

"Oh, no excitement, really," Max said hastily as she remembered Alec's "cover story" talk, and she scrambled to diffuse whatever, inevitably volatile, little scheme he had in mind.

But Alec would have none of that.

"Don't be shy, baby," he purred in her ear, "Remember you said this was the happiest day of your life, and you wanted to share it with everyone?"

"Happiest day of my life?" Max repeated.

"Suure…" he answered, drawing out the moment for dramatic effect…and to extend that pleasurable tingly sensation that coursed through his body at watching the horror dawn on Max's face the precise moment before he said the next words: "It's not every day that you get married."

Frank's face broke out in a beaming grin just as Max echoed, in a small voice, "Married." Alec eased his hold, taking a step back from his "bride", before she decided to do to him anything unbefitting of a newlywed.

"Married! Well congratulations kids," Frank said, delivering an emphatic slap to the younger man's shoulder. Then leaning in confidentially toward Alec, he continued, "And you snagged yourself a real looker there." Alec laughed and Max glowered at him from just outside Frank's peripheral vision, taking the opportunity to inch even further away from her "husband".

A plump, fifty-ish women entered the room just then, rubbing her hands on her dark green robe. "Now what's all the commotion?" she said, stopping at Frank's side as she looked their guests over.

"Maddie, these two just got themselves hitched," Frank explained, "I was just telling – " he paused abruptly, gazing back at Alec. "I'm sorry, I didn't even get your names."

"Alec," he replied, extending a hand, which the other man shook with the one that wasn't still holding the mug. "And this here," he said, stepping back to retrieve the brunette who had been, somewhat unconsciously, edging her way toward the front door. His hands firmly on her biceps, he pulled her forward and placed her suddenly unresisting form in front of himself, like some sort of sacrificial offering, Max couldn't help but think. "My lovely wife," he said that last word with great relish, while she merely blinked in response, "Max."

Max smiled wanly at the pair, neither taking notice of her discomfort.

"Frank Fuhler," the other man greeted, "and the missus, Madelyn."

"Call me Maddie," she said with a bright smile. "Well, I suppose I should say, congratulations!"

"Thank you," Max replied sweetly. Alec noted, with reluctant admiration, that the slightest tick in her jaw, visible only to him, was her sole tell. She was pretty good at handling those fastballs. Or was that…curveballs? Whatever. It was some sort of baseball pitch.

"So, if it's your wedding day, what the heck are you two doing out and about this late… and in this weather, to boot?" Maddie inquired.

Max glanced toward Alec expectantly. Hey, it was his crazy story…let him explain it.

"Oh, it's a long story actually," he began in a reluctant tone. The elder couple nodded encouragingly, and Alec continued shortly. "You see, our parents didn't approve of us getting married…" Maddie "aww-ed" in the background and Alec nodded.

"Actually, it was Max's parents who put up the fuss," he revealed, and Max arched an eyebrow. "Her father, really. Ol' Logan never did like me."

Max coughed loudly, disguising the loud guffaw that had instinctively escaped her mouth. Her eyes widened at Alec's nerve, especially when she felt a hand rubbing her back in a soothing circular motion.

'That aggravating, conceited, weasely son of a – '

But her silent tirade broke off abruptly as an idea struck her…and a devious grin curved her lips behind the cover of her hand. Slipping an arm around her "hubby's" waist, she plastered on a demure smile when he glanced at her in mild surprise.

"Oh honey, you know it's not you that he didn't like," Max protested, patting his hip affectionately, "just your prison record."

Inwardly, Max danced with glee as she saw from the corner of her eye, Maddie start instinctively at that revelation, while Frank raised a speculative eyebrow, trying to hide his own expression by lifting the previously forgotten mug to his lips.

Fortunately for Alec, he too was a quick recovery.

Appearing unfazed, he draped his arm over Max's shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze, and inclined his head apologetically.

"We all make mistakes in our youth," he shed a plaintive look in the elder pair's direction. "And I've certainly learned from mine. But still," he sighed, "I can't help but think that wouldn't be such a problem if you weren't from such a wealthy family, and me…well, my parents' inheritance was dwindled away on medical expenses for my poor, sick grandmother."

"Your parents are dead?" Maddie said sympathetically, and Max could have stomped her feet in aggravation. Apparently, the criminal record could be forgiven in the face of this new knowledge.

Max bit her lip on the pout that threatened to form. Damn, and she'd really thought she'd thrown him off with that last one…

"In a house fire," she supplied helpfully, "And Alec here was cleared of all charges."

Maddie gasped and raised a hand to her chest. Frank abandoned the cover of his mug, his shock now clearly written on his face.

"Maxie, baby," Alec said, chuckling awkwardly. He pressed her uncomfortably close to his side, his voice dropping to a pitch where only she could hear his next words: "We're trying to convince them to help us, not scare them into calling the cops."

Max ducked her head somewhat sheepishly and remained silent.

Then louder, for the sake of their audience, he explained, "Yeah, dad had this nasty habit of smoking in bed. One day he fell asleep before putting the cigarette out and…" he trailed off, gazing forlornly at some distant memory. "Well… you get the picture. But you know how those insurance companies can get when they have to pay out big claims – they see arson everywhere."

Their hosts nodded understandingly and, with the tragic air that continued to surround Alec, the tension in the room slowly dropped a few notches.

"Anyhow," Alec went on, clearing his throat, "we were on our way out of the state…figured we'd stop at the next town, find a motel for the night…but the storm brought a tree down across the highway a couple of miles from here, and we were hoping you might have a chainsaw or an ax or something that we could borrow, so we could get it out of the way."

Frank opened his mouth to answer, but Maddie cut in first. "Oh you can't go back out there to find some cheap motel now. The rain could pick back up anytime, and it's far too late for any more driving today…you'll be spending the night right here."

Max opened her mouth to protest, but the look the older woman gave her left little room for argument. And Max got the distinct impression that any attempt she made to turn down the offer would be the equivalent of a child trying to convince its parents to let it stay up past its bedtime. It just wasn't happening. Besides, it wasn't as if the idea seemed all that terrible…

She glanced toward Alec for his opinion, but he merely shrugged his shoulders unhelpfully with his arm still slung carelessly about her waist.

'Oh, so now he finally decides to keep his mouth shut.'

"Alright," she conceded, her expression still a little uncertain. "If you're sure it's not too much trouble…"

"Of course not," Maddie smiled warmly. "It's settled – Frank will help you with that tree come morning, but tonight you're staying here."

"That would be divine," Alec said cheerfully. He squeezed Max in against his side for the umpteenth time that night. His fingers were splayed boldly on her thigh, and precariously close to regions she firmly considered off limits. "Right baby?"

Forcing a smile to her face, Max edged her free hand discreetly toward his digits and nudged them away.

"Right honey."

Her other hand slipped beneath the edge of his jacket. The pads of her fingers grazed lightly over his t-shirt, causing an almost tickling sensation for Alec. Then without preamble, she embedded her nails in his flesh, the gesture safely concealed from the other occupants of the room by the cover of his coat.

Alec jerked minutely at the first abrupt flash of pain, biting down on his lip to keep the threatening yelp from escaping his mouth.

Max's smile deepened…and so did her nails, further into Alec's side.

That was why, so caught up in her brief victory, a moment later she had no chance to suppress her startled gasp when the hand at her waist slid down a few precious inches and retaliatory fingers grasped her ass, digging into the firm globe of flesh with an intensity just shy of being painful, but well within the region of discomforting. She found herself rising to her toes, her gaze snapping immediately to Alec's. Wide brown eyes met with green, the latter sparkling with amusement and self-satisfaction.

"Alright kids," Maddie cut in before Max could do anything that might both blow their cover and cause Alec some permanent physical damage in a single bound, "let me show you to the guest room. I'm sure you've had a long day and could use the rest."

"Rest?" Frank said incredulously, laying a hearty slap to Alec's back. "It's their honeymoon night. I'm sure they have more interesting things to do than sleep."

"I'm sure we do," Alec agreed enthusiastically, his smile turning positively beaming at the suggestion. Max wriggled subtly in place, attempting to dislodge Alec's hand even as her own nails clawed deeper into his flesh.

"If by 'we' you mean you and your hand…" she muttered through clenched teeth as she plastered on a sweet smile for the sake of their cover. Finally, as they followed Maddie up a nearby set of stairs, she managed to work free of his grip, which eased as soon as she terminated her own assault on him.

"Night you two," Frank called out after them, and Max mumbled back some response while Alec turned to give him a small salute, which the other man returned with a knowing grin.

They were led down a narrow hallway, where Maddie stopped just shy of the end, at the last door on the right. Flicking on a light switch just inside the room, she stepped back.

"There you go," she announced. "Nothing fancy, but it's clean, and already made up. We don't get many overnight guests around here, but we're always ready, just in case." She placed a finger thoughtfully on her chin. "There are towels in the bathroom, and the hot water should be working, if you want to clean up, or whatnot. Well then," she concluded, stepping back into the hall, "go ahead."

Alec walked forward then paused as he took in the older woman's expectant gaze.

"What?"

"It's your wedding night," she said, as if that explained everything. When both Alec and Max continued to stare at her blankly, she went on, "You have to carry her over the threshold. It's tradition."

"What?" Max fairly squeaked. Shaking her head quickly, she scrambled desperately for an out, "Oh no, we're not very traditional people. We don't go for that whole…" she wiggled her hand vaguely, "thing."

"Nonsense!" Maddie exclaimed, "There's nothing to it…it's just for good luck. Besides," she said, eyeing Alec speculatively, "you look like a strong young man. I'm sure you can manage with no trouble."

Alec bit back a laugh at her words. Hell, Max could carry him "over the threshold", with no trouble – strength was not a problem for either of them.

Max, however, clearly failed to see the humor in the situation. Which made it all the more apparent to Alec that he simply had to follow through with it.

"You heard her, baby: it's tradition."

He took a step toward her, which Max instinctively countered with a step back. Of course, she was already at the end of the hallway and had no more room left for maneuvering. Her back came up against the wall immediately, and Alec's expression took on a predatory slant as Max's eyes widened with the realization of her position. She shook her head minutely, as if in warning, but the gesture came off as less than threatening… with her resembling not so much the fox greeting its prey, as the defenseless little rabbit about to be devoured. The thought brought a wicked twist to Alec's grin and he licked his lips, causing Max's gaze to, if possible, widen even further.

"Come on, Max, it's no big deal," he told her, lowering his voice so only she would hear. Before she could offer any further protests, he grabbed a wrist and jerked her forward. Using her momentary surprise as a window of opportunity, he hooked one arm behind her knees, the other around her back and hefted her up with enough flair to earn a satisfied sigh from their sole spectator…and strode forth into the room.

Maddie bid them good night, closing the door behind her after ensuring they had everything they might require through the night. But not before adding that the walls were plenty thick, "For, you know…privacy." And Max had barely resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands…because they were, of course, lovingly draped around her "husband's" neck.

As soon as the sound of fading footsteps indicated they were alone, Max's gaze turned toward Alec as she delivered him a heated glare.

"Put me down," she demanded… quite predictably. So Alec responded in what he, at least, figured was an equally predictable manner.

He flung her onto the bed.

And true to his impeccable aim, Max hit the mattress dead center. Then she bounced up, and continued to fly through the air with the residual momentum, a disgruntled cry falling from her lips…until she hit the floor on the far side of the bed with a faint thud to indicate her landing.

'Oops.'

Alec's eyes widened and he stared, for a few long seconds, at the spot where Max should have been.

Then he blinked and launched himself, ass-first, at the bed, bouncing enthusiastically when he landed, to test out the springs.

"Nice," he declared, "Helluva lot better than anything at Manticore, or what you'd get in a cheap motel," he said as Max climbed to her feet, slowly, behind him. With one hand, she pushed back her hair, which had fallen in disarray in and around her face. Naturally, she was glaring at his seemingly oblivious back as if the force of her venomous gaze could cause him to, possibly, spontaneously combust. When that didn't happen, she released a small sigh and shrugged. She couldn't say she was all that surprised by what Alec had done, not from what she learned of him so far…and frankly, she was too tired to dwell.

"I'm taking a shower," she declared, trudging toward the bathroom instead. At least that hot water Maddie had mentioned would prove something of a consolation.

"Yeah, sure," Alec replied absently, still absorbed with his new toy.

Max shook her head, telling herself that she found the whole thing irritating, at the very best, even as a small grin quirked her lips. Actually, it was more of a smirk…so, really, it didn't even count. A smirk that read something more along the lines of "I find amusement at your expense" than, say, "I find your antics adorable and I have an overwhelming urge to shove my tongue down your throat". She wasn't quite sure what would denote the latter. But whatever it was, she wasn't doing it.

Sometime after Max left the room, Alec's fascination with the bed began to slowly dwindle away. When this happened, he flopped onto his back, his body spread-eagled as he stared up at the ceiling. This lasted for about a minute before he became bored. Actually, as he thought about it, he was feeling a little restless – not at all tired, as he should have been after more than thirty-six hours with virtually no sleep. He'd gone longer before, yes, but with a battle rush, that was relatively easy to do. Right now, he just felt…well, restless.

Propping himself up on his elbows, he gazed about the room, and discovered, to his disappointment, there was no television. Not that he'd really expected one, but…he sighed and flopped back onto the bed.

'How long has she been in that bathroom anyway?'

With that thought, he felt the telltale pressure in his bladder. 'Yeah, right, that figures,' he thought irritably as he glared down toward the general region.

It seemed that lately, his body was constantly defying that meticulous control he had cultivated over the years. First with that whole heat thing… and then with pretty much every other time he laid eyes on Max. Well, it wasn't entirely his body's fault – he blamed her too. She certainly wasn't making things any easier for him. Where did she get off being so hot? Yeah, sure, Manticore made them all genetically perfect and everything…but he'd never found any of the females back at Manticore particularly sexy. They were too soldier-like, too rigid to pass for sexy. He was sure they could probably act the part if they had to, for a mission or something… but it didn't come to them naturally. Not like with…her.

Damn, he couldn't even bring himself to refer to her by her designation anymore. Worse, he was thinking of himself in terms of the name she had saddled him with, rather than the three-digit number he'd known all his life. How could someone he'd known for such a short while change…everything?

Alec sat up, and in an attempt to draw his mind off of Max, and his bladder – which was, incidentally, annoyed at Max too, for hogging the bathroom – began to prepare for bed. He stripped off his shirt first, flinging it haphazardly across the room, then kicked off his shoes, following with his pants. Finally, just his boxers left in place, he fell back against the covers to, once again, wait. While he waited, his thoughts returned inevitably to the woman for whom he was waiting. And when she sauntered back into the room, a cloud of steam billowing out behind her, Alec had to work to suppress a groan. Dressed in just her t-shirt and a simple pair of blue panties that the short, clingy shirt did nothing to conceal, she walked out of the bathroom with her jeans and her jacket draped over one arm. She hung the items on a hook on the back of the bedroom door before finally turning on her heel to face the other transgenic.

Not wanting to be accused of staring, because that was exactly what he was doing, Alec leapt up from his seat abruptly.

"Damn, it's about time," he said instead, "I've been holding it in for like the past twenty minutes."

He felt ridiculous for his reaction. After all, he'd seen her in a lot less already.

'Okay, and that thought didn't help things any…'

Max shrugged as Alec rushed past her. "If you hadn't been so busy playing with the furniture, you could've had it first."

When the door closed behind him, Max breathed a sigh of relief. She could really do without seeing him in his present state of undress; it was bringing back all sorts of unwelcome flashbacks from their night together. Not that she could ever really recall the details of any of her heat-induced trysts…but she supposed it was only logical that with the right cues, of which she was getting plenty right now, she was likely to remember more than was usually the case.

Like the feel of a heavy body moving above hers, and green eyes flashing in the dark… Right then she'd realized there was more to this stranger than he'd let on; the look in his gaze as it clashed with hers under the blanket of night…there was no way he should have been able to see, not without night vision like hers. But he had seen, she could tell, by the way he held her eyes as he lowered himself, slowly, in –

'Stop,' she told herself sternly, briefly closing her eyes as she took in a deep breath of air.

No point in going there, because, Max decided, there were to be absolutely no repeat performances. They'd already acknowledged that they'd be going their separate ways soon enough, and with no possibility of a lasting relationship – which she didn't even want, so, really, she shouldn't even have to think about that – minimal involvement was best.

'Right,' she nodded.

She'd never really favored casual sex; it always left her feeling kind of cheap…unless it was because of heat. With heat, she could excuse whatever – whoever – she did, and trace the blame back to Manticore. But outside of heat…

Well, in any case, she'd vowed that was the only time she'd indulge in the no-commitment flings. And she was safe now, for the next four months or so, having already gotten that out of her system. Too bad that in the process she seemed to have gotten him in it. Not that anyone could blame her, what with him looking the way he did. It wasn't like superior genetics made her immune to the effects of a really – really, really – attractive male.

The toilet flushed in the background and Max was drawn from her thoughts with a start. She shook her head and pulled back the sheets on the bed, slipping into the far side, so at least she wouldn't have to look at him when he came back out. She supposed she could have been immature about it, demanding that one of them sleep on the floor – for decency's sake, or whatever. But then, judging from Alec's display earlier, she doubted that he would volunteer to be that one…and there was no way she was volunteering herself, not when there was a nice, soft, comfortable bed at their disposal. Besides, she thought, emitting a large yawn, she was just tired enough after the previous day's excitement to catch herself a little uncharacteristic shut-eye.

When Alec came out of the bathroom, he found Max already comfortably nestled in the bed. Still feeling inexplicably wired, he gazed down at her still form and wondered why she, with her shark DNA, appeared dead to the world while he – sans aforementioned shark DNA, and who had done most of the driving – was still wide-awake.

"Maybe 'cuz of all that coffee you guzzled earlier."

Alec jumped slightly at the sound of Max's voice, her words proving she was not quite as "dead" as he'd initially surmised. He continued to stare at her in surprise until she turned over on the bed, and fixed him with a steady look.

"You do realize you said that out loud, don't you?"

'Oh.' He blinked and turned away.

"Right," he muttered out loud, as his eyes sought out something to keep him busy. Spotting the mess of his clothes strewn about the floor, he crossed the room to gather them together. He tossed them on the dresser in a slightly more tidy…well, centralized…pile, before moving to the light switch and flicking it off. Then he turned toward the bed again, finding that Max had returned to her previous position, her back to him. He hesitated in place and watched her for a moment.

A small sigh sounded from the other side of the room before he heard the following remark, "You know, you're a lot more likely to fall asleep if you're actually lying down…and you're a lot more likely to let others sleep as well."

"I can't," he protested, "I'm all…wired."

"Just lie down, close your eyes," she said, her voice growing soft with impending sleep, "you'll be out in no time."

Alec walked to the bed and sat down on his side. "Well, actually, there is one thing that always manages to relax me enough to let me fall asleep…"

Max snorted. "Trust you not to think of anything besides sex."

"I was talking about TV, actually. But thanks for the offer."

Turning over sharply, she shot him a glare. "It wasn't an offer!"

"Hey, hey…relax. Just because I turned you down – "

"Oh please," she interrupted, flopping back into place, "like you would ever actually turn me down if I did offer."

Alec crossed his arms over his chest, pursing his lips. Well, of course. What kind of red-blooded male would he be to turn down an attractive female's offer for sex? But still…

"Well, somebody's a little full of herself," he muttered quietly.

The bed shifted as Max rolled over again. She looked up at him, her intent gaze cutting through the dark with ease.

"Alec," she said matter-of-factly, "do you wanna have sex?"

Alec blinked, returning her look as if considering the question.

"Um…that depends." Max raised an eyebrow, and he elaborated, "Are you actually offering, or are you just trying to illustrate a point?" She continued to stare at him, the silence stretching between them.

Finally, Alec gave in. "Okay, yes."

Max rolled her eyes, and turned her back again.

"Damn," he muttered, slumping further down on the bed.

Long, long minutes passed and eventually Max's breathing evened out, indicating she had indeed fallen asleep. Alec continued to stare up at the ceiling, his thoughts running in random directions.

Okay, so they had Lydecker on their trail now… but then, the guy had been chasing down the '09s for a decade now, with little progress. He hadn't even brought a single one in, in all that time. Maybe Alec didn't have much experience being on the run, but he'd still been taught by Manticore in keeping a low profile. Besides, if a bunch of prepubescent runts could do it, there was no reason why he couldn't. Especially when he had one of those "runts", in grownup form, with him. And damn, had she grown up nice…

Alec flipped onto his side restlessly, and found himself looking at Max's dark hair. His movements spurred her to shift as well until she rolled onto her back, her head falling to the side. Her arm dropped limply across the bed in the process, her hand coming to rest on his pillow. She sighed then, a soft release of breath, and Alec found his gaze drawn to a stray lock of hair that had tumbled across her cheek, the end of the curl stopping just at the corner of her mouth. Before he even knew what he was doing, his fingers were reaching out, brushing the dark ringlet from her face. On their return trip, they lingered on her cheek, following the gentle slope back to her mouth, tracing the curve of her lips with the barest touch. Watching her, his thoughts returned to the cover story he had concocted for them… What would it have been like, to have as their biggest concern, disapproving parents determined to keep them apart…rather than the reality of a secret military organization hunting them down to avoid exposure. Or maybe this could've been a road trip, a real one…a cross-country expedition about "finding themselves", or whatever all that shit was about.

Was that what had made the '09s run all those years ago? The thought…the possibility…of such a life? There was no doubt in his mind that any "normal" life they might have aspired to was merely an illusion, but it was the idea that counted, right? The hope, that had made them take the risk.

And Max was right. Whatever else he'd said before, he had to give her credit for staying out of Manticore's radar for the past ten years. True enough, he had found her, but he bet she could give him a lesson or two on being on the run.

The hand on his pillow twitched slightly, tearing Alec abruptly from his thoughts, and he pulled back sharply as the realization of what he was doing finally sank in. He looked quickly toward Max, but she was still deeply asleep.

"Fuck," he muttered as he jerked around roughly, putting her safely at his back. "Fucking feline DNA."

And that's what it all came back to…what had started the die rolling. He had to get a grip on things before it got him into any further trouble.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Thanks to both Deb and Kiwi for beta'ing. You're the bestests.

* * *

**   
They Didn't Train Me for This **

_- Chapter 11 -_

Max awoke just past dawn, slightly disoriented, with the sun seeping in through the curtains she'd forgotten to close the previous night.

There was a brief moment of panicked confusion as she rolled over and her hand brushed up against bare flesh.

'There's someone in my bed,' she thought frantically, lurching up into a sitting position, careful to avoid any further unnecessary physical contact. But when she glanced toward that "someone", and her eyes fell upon a face that was by now quite irritatingly familiar, the events of the past few days came rushing back to her. Max released a long breath of air.

'Just Alec,' she reassured herself and flopped back onto the bed.

Alec murmured a sleepy protest at her movement, which had caused the mattress to shift beneath them. He turned his head into the pillow until he was facing her, eyes closed, muttering something about Manticore drill sergeants versus volatile brunettes.

Max rolled onto her side and glared at him, trying to figure out if he was really asleep or just faking it. His breathing was level, and the little crease that had formed between his eyebrows during the disturbance, was slowly smoothing itself out.

Well, at least the second time around on this whole waking up next to Alec thing was a vast improvement over the first. No use of deadly weapons required…yet. Or maybe it was just the fact that he hadn't opened his mouth that made this experience so much more pleasant. Yeah, she was sure that as soon as he awoke, he'd rectify that.

But until then…

Max returned her attention to the uncharacteristically subdued figure before her, examining his features with unabashed thoroughness.

So this was Ben's face, she mused. Strange, when he was awake, she hadn't been the least bit aware of it…but now that he was asleep, his defenses down, and she looked – _really_ looked – she could see _some_ physical traces of the "brother" she remembered. The boy with all the story-like explanations, who'd made shadow puppets on the wall and entertained his siblings with tales of the mystical Blue Lady.

Max felt a stir of longing in her chest as her thoughts then automatically turned to the rest of her unit, and she wondered once again whether she would ever find them. And now, with Logan back in Seattle and her…wherever the hell she was…their little quid pro quo deal was put to rest. And she might have lost her only real chance to locate the others.

Unless…

Didn't Alec mention something about Manticore giving him some background on her and the rest of her unit? If he'd found her, maybe he'd have some insight on locating the others. She'd have to make sure to ask him before they split up. It wasn't necessary that this whole encounter be a _complete_ disaster.

Finally, with a small sigh of resolution, Max dragged herself from the bed, sending a wayward glance over her shoulder to see if she'd awoken Alec in the process. She hadn't. She had to figure it was just a combination of the previous day's excitement and the freedom to get up when he pleased; she couldn't imagine this sort of laxness passing for long back at Manticore.

Shrugging slightly, she collected the clothes she'd worn the previous day, and headed toward the bathroom. There was no harm in letting him sleep in just a _little_ longer. Besides, she rather liked this uncharacteristic period of silence. It made him so much more adorable. Er…bearable.

Right. Bearable.

Max took a leisurely shower, having decided that as the person with the shark genes, she was perfectly in her right to take as much of the hot water as she pleased. Like that saying about early birds and worms… Yeah. Besides, he was from Manticore, he should be used to taking cold showers. Unless they'd changed their policy since she'd left. Probably not. In either case, hot showers were just too rare a treat to be ruining this one with any misplaced notions of guilt.

She opted to wash her hair this time, toweling it dry once she was done. Once she'd combed it, dressed, and finally exited the bathroom, a good hour had elapsed since she'd left the warmth and comfort of the bed.

'That oughta be enough time for Sleeping Beauty to have all caught up on his shuteye.'

As it turned out, she was wrong.

While she was gone, Alec had shifted so his upper body was on the side she had recently evacuated, with his legs flung haphazardly across his own end. Max crossed her arms over her chest as she considered the sight.

After a few additional seconds of deliberation, she found her irritation only increasing with each passing moment. Finally, she simply strode forth and jabbed him in the side with her index finger.

Alec grunted.

"You're on my side of the bed."

One bleary green eye peeked open, peering up at her through the sandwich of tousled hair and a forearm.

"Yer nut yoosin it."

Max frowned at him. Had he just called her a nut?

She shook her head. "Bathroom's free. Get up and get dressed."

"In a while," he mumbled before turning his head away from her. This, predictably, did not go far in quelling Max's already mounting annoyance.

"Not later, now," she said in a slow, even voice.

Really, what did he expect her to do while he lay there getting his sleep on like some…ordinary? Count the number of flowers on the duvet? Hello, shark DNA here – she had energy to dispel!

"Hey, Rip Van Alec! Get your ass up outta bed already."

This time he actually went to the effort of gracing her with _both_ eyes as he glowered at her. "Max, it's…" he squinted at the watch he hadn't bothered removing when he went to bed, "_seven_ a.m. We've got plenty of time before we should be moving out. Anyone after us wouldn't have pushed it as hard as we did in last night's storm."

Max lowered her arms and unconsciously stuck out her lower lip. "But we have to go shopping."

He just stared at her, his face twisting into a mask of bewilderment.

"What?"

"I don't have any other clothes," she said. "Remember the whole leaving on the spur of the moment, and me not being able to go back to my apartment thing?"

"You can't wait a few more hours…maybe another day?"

Max was aghast. "I've already been wearing these almost two days now! I've slept in them, eaten in them, kicked some bad guy ass in them."

"What bad guy ass?" he asked, frowning. "I helped you get out of that bar before any of those guys got near you."

"Alright." She propped her hands up on her hips and stared at his prone figure. "I kicked _your_ ass in them."

"That was my nose," he corrected, his voice low. The little reminder obviously did nothing to improve his mood. "And that was punching, not kicking."

"Whatever."

Alec groaned and dropped his face back into the pillow. "Fine," his muffled voice reached her ears.

Max started to grin in victory.

"Later."

And the grin disappeared.

She stared at him a moment, her growing anger apparent on her face, had he bothered to look. Then abruptly the expression washed away, to be replaced by a small smirk that was quickly repressed.

"Seriously," she said, carefully controlling her voice to sound neutral, "if you don't get up right now, you are so going to regret it."

A snort muffled by a pillow was her only response.

"Fine. But remember, I warned you."

The snort merged with a brief chuckle to form an aggravating hybrid of condescension. Her lips tightened into a straight line and she stood up rigidly straight before stalking out of the room without another word.

Except one: "Dickhead."

When she was gone, Alec rolled over onto his back once more, letting loose a contented sigh as he nestled into the warm, welcoming embrace of his pillow – whom he had privately dubbed Belinda, because she had that special womanly touch – content in the knowledge that he had won that particular argument.

See, the thing with dealing with Max was, you just had to know when to draw the line. She had to know that she couldn't get her way all the time. She probably hadn't had much opportunity to learn that over the past decade, he guessed. With her being all hot and everything, she was probably used to men tripping all over themselves in their haste to please her.

But not him. No sir, not him. Though he didn't doubt she'd expected to work her charms on him all the same. With those big brown eyes, and those big round…

Um, yeah. Anyway, he was sure she usually had them all wrapped around her tiny little finger…eating out of the palm of her hand…lapping the cream out of her bowl – not that he hadn't done his own share of lapping just a few days past.

He grinned slightly, dreamily, edging on that delicate precipice between sleep and consciousness. Yeah, that had been nice.

He vaguely recalled the way her fingers had clutched at his hair with an almost painful force, the muscles of her thighs coiled tight beneath his palms, the rapid little moans that left her slightly parted, passion-swollen –

_Splash!_

Alec was out of the bed before he could even think, his previously cozy warm sheets crumpled in a disgraced pile at his feet.

Wide-eyed with mystification, his expression no doubt mirroring the incredulity currently coursing through his dazed mind, he stared at the woman standing before him. She, in turn, remained frozen in place, hands still clutching the evidence of her transgression – the white, metal-handled plastic bucket, now entirely empty of its previous contents.

Contents that were now covering Alec.

Cold contents.

Wet contents.

Max's eyes followed a bead of water as it left his right temple, sped down the side of his face and fell to his collarbone – where upon it lost some of its momentum, and subsequently made its way, at a considerably decelerated pace, down right through the center of his chest.

Time stood still. And so did Max.

She could only peripherally admire the way the water clumped his hair together in dark, unruly patches, or how his tanned flesh glistened under the transparent layer of wetness. Or the look of utter shock on his face, as if he couldn't quite believe what she had done…or that she actually expected to continue to live after doing it.

Caught between the urge to laugh – gleefully, maniacally, _suicidally_ – at her handiwork, and to preserve her existence by refraining from doing exactly that…she finally made her decision.

She ran.

Not even bothering to drop the bucket in her hand, she bolted for the door, throwing it open hard so that it bounced right off the little stopper at the bottom of the wall, and headed out into the hallway beyond. Unfortunately, Alec was right behind her, and with his considerably longer stride, he was rapidly gaining.

Max ditched the pail, affording it a silent apology. It had done its job and its services were by no means unappreciated. She just couldn't deal with the extra burden right now.

Halfway to the beckoning haven of the stairs, strong arms caught her waist and drew her backward into a still damp torso. Despite all her struggles, she found her feet leaving the ground as her shoulders came level to Alec's, her hands gripping his forearms, trying to draw them off her.

"Alec!" She tried to make it sound authoritative, but couldn't help the slight whine to her tone. "These are my only clothes, and you're getting them all _wet_!"

"Well this is my only body," he said, using her as his human towel as he rubbed her back against his chest, "and you got _it_ all wet."

He lowered his head to her covered shoulder, releasing droplets of icy water that hit the nape of her neck and fell down her t-shirt. Max squealed, the contact sending a shock through her system and rejuvenating her struggles.

Alec turned her in his arms then, looking for a fresh expanse of dry cotton to finish the job. She'd never known herself to be particularly ticklish before, but she couldn't help the spluttering giggles that escaped her lips as his fingers danced over her ribcage and along her sides.

"Alec…" she protested between gasping breaths, "stop…I – _oomph_!" Her words were cut off as she found her face somehow buried against his chest.

"I'm sorry, what was that, Max?" he asked innocently, while wringing excess water from his hair with one hand and letting it fall directly onto her.

She brought her hands up to his chest, using the leverage to push herself far enough away that she could look up at him now. Her expression was a mixture of reactions, as if she didn't know quite how to respond to his manhandling. Her eyebrows were drawn together in preparation of a glare, her lips were turned down in a sullen pout, but her eyes danced with laughter. And it was this last part that caught him, made his smile slip slowly from his face, mirth departing to make way for something else, something heavier and more confusing.

Alec could pinpoint the exact moment when his sudden shift in mood was reciprocated, as the air grew charged and thick with tension. Her hands at some point had come to rest on his biceps, suspended somewhere between pushing him away and unconsciously returning his unintentional embrace.

And all along where their bodies connected, extra nerves seemed to have popped up underneath Max's skin. He was so warm and welcoming, his heart beating steadily beneath her palm. Not the beating of an ordinary human, but the slightly stronger, more rapid hammering of an X5. And he was looking at her, intently. Expectantly. As if he was waiting for something.

Which he was. He was waiting for a sign from her, a move. Any indication that she wouldn't pop him in the face if he made his own.

His eyes beseeched her silently.

But Max just stared back into them, realizing then that they weren't really green like she'd first thought, or hazel as she'd corrected herself afterward. Rather, they were a mixture…hazel with little flecks of green, which seemed to become more prominent when his pupils constricted.

And right now, those little flecks seemed to be disappearing altogether, sinking into a sea of hazel and black.

Curious, Max leaned in for a closer look. Or that was what she told herself; but if it was really true, then why was she concentrating more on his lips…?

Her chest brushed up lightly against his, her hands sliding up his arms to his shoulders. Her head tilted back, eyelids at half-mast –

A throat cleared behind her, and Max jumped like Lydecker himself had just popped out of the linen closet. She half-grimaced at the image _that_ presented.

She was about to move away from him, but Alec anticipated it and held her to him as he turned her in place until she was facing the source of their interruption, her back once more against his chest. In that one swift move, he both managed to maintain their image as the young loving couple, and use her body to preserve whatever modicum of modesty he still possessed after his years of constant prodding and poking by strangers in lab coats and Manticore's communal lifestyle. Besides, he'd been anticipating a completely different turn of events before the disruption, and certain parts of his body might have gotten a little…ahead of him. Of course, he was sure not to put her too close to these regions.

"Didn't mean to startle you there," Maddie gave them a smile that was half apologetic, half knowing.

"No problem," Alec replied easily, folding his arms over the waist of his human shield. She was tense beneath him, as if ready to bolt, but he knew she wouldn't do anything to compromise their cover. There was still too much Manticore in her for that.

"We were just, ah…" Max faltered, and then shrugged awkwardly in Alec's embrace, realizing no explanation was really necessary. What they were doing was obvious…even if they weren't really doing it…or they might have done it, but hadn't gotten the chance since they'd been interrupted before they could go through with it. Or something like that; this was getting a little confusing.

Maddie's smile widened, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "Don't worry, I'm not so old that I don't remember what those days were like. I just came by to see if you were up and ready to join us for breakfast."

"Yeah, sure," Max said, her mood brightening considerably at the thought of food. Plus, now that Alec was up and out of bed, that shopping expedition loomed close ahead.

"I, ah," Alec scratched the back of his neck with one hand, the other still lingering on Max's hip, "should probably get dressed first."

Raising an eyebrow, Maddie gave him an appreciative look. "I don't mind, but Frank probably wouldn't feel too comfortable if you showed up looking like that. Nice undies, by the way," she added, catching a glimpse of his boxers. She let out a rich laugh as she caught his sheepish grin. "Just join us when you're done," she told him.

"Right," he said, finally releasing his hold on Max as he backed away toward the bedroom. Only when he was out of sight did Max let loose the grin she'd been holding back.

"Well, come along then," Maddie said, beckoning her with the wave of a hand. "No reason why you have to wait for him to eat."

"Damn straight," Max agreed.

She retrieved the abandoned pail from the floor of the hallway and followed her hostess down the stairs and toward the kitchen, where Frank was already seated at the table with a cup of coffee and a newspaper. She set the bucket down on the counter.

"Thanks again, Frank."

"You're welcome," the older man replied. Then he peered at her over the rim of his reading glasses. "Although…now I'm wondering if maybe I made myself an accessory to something."

His wife laughed and turned to Max. "Is that how you got him out of bed?"

"Yeah. I warned him and all, but he just refused to listen." She raised her eyebrows and shrugged. "You know how men can be."

Maddie directed a pointed look at her husband. "Yes, I do."

"Hey," Frank protested, putting on an innocent expression, "leave me out of this. I'm just reading my paper."

"Humph."

"Strawberries!" Max exclaimed with genuine pleasure, the direction of the conversation shifting abruptly as she spied the bowl of fruit that the older woman had prepared for breakfast.

Maddie smiled at her reaction and nudged the bowl in her direction. "Yep, they're fresh. Ol' Tim, he owns a farm nearby. He brought down a huge basketful the other day…I told him it was far too much for just Frank and me. But," she shrugged lightly, "looks like they'll be put to good use now."

"Oh, you bet they will," Max grinned, taking a bite from a neatly prepared slice. "Strawberries are my favorite," she managed around a mouthful. She slipped into a stool directly across the counter from the other woman, giving the bowl a long and considering look before she glanced almost guiltily toward Frank.

He laughed. "Go ahead," he waved a hand. "I've already had more than enough over the past coupla days."

Max looked doubtful at the idea of _anyone_ having "more than enough", but without further hesitation, she dug into the pile.

A shadow in the doorway a few minutes later caused them all to glance over. He was dry, but for slightly damp hair that stuck up somewhat disorderly, as if he hadn't bothered to comb it with anything more than his fingers. His pants were the same dark jeans he'd been wearing the previous day, but he'd switched to a long-sleeved gray shirt that hugged his chest and shoulders like an over affectionate relative.

"Hello dear," Max greeted sweetly as Alec crossed into the kitchen, nearing the spot where she sat on his way to the table.

She felt a smirk start to form and hid it behind another slice of strawberry. Alec paused, watching her for a second as she bit into it. Then suddenly he leaned forward. He took the remaining portion of the fruit from her hand, lips momentarily closing over her fingers in the process. And the process sure did seem to take an inordinately long period of time. He even accidentally managed to let his tongue swirl around one fingertip, before leisurely drawing away from her.

Max stared at him breathlessly.

"Morning darling."

He smiled, lips still glistening from the juice of his prize. Max stared at them briefly, wondering, if she leaned forward and ran her own tongue over those lips, how it would taste to have the flavor of the strawberry mixed in with Alec's.

Alec's smile slowly transformed as if he could follow the direction of her thoughts, and his eyes flickered toward her mouth, his expression heavy with something darker, an open invitation in that gesture. Max swallowed the last remnants of the fruit that had suddenly become flavorless in her mouth, and glanced away.

"Um, Maddie," she quickly blurted out, grasping for any sort of distraction, "where could I do a little clothes shopping around here?"

Alec rolled his eyes and sent a look over his shoulder. "Women," he told Frank, inclining his head at the latest turn in conversation.

"I hear you son," the other man replied as he was joined at the kitchen table.

Maddie turned to her husband accusingly. "What happened to just reading your paper?"

"Hey," he folded up the newspaper, placing it aside, "that was before the reinforcement arrived."

"Men," Maddie returned in the same tone Alec had used.

Max drew her bottom lip into her mouth, chewing it deliberatively, and snuck a glance in the direction of the man whose attention was currently consumed by the fresh cup of coffee their hostess had placed before him.

"Yeah," she said softly. "Men."

Clarence Rhodes' nametag read "Tom".

No, he was not delusional, he did not dispute his true identity; he had no desire to pay homage to this aforementioned Tom – he didn't even know the man; and it wasn't that he'd forgotten his own at home either.

In fact, by the time Clarence was hired as a clerk for the esteemed Pit Stop convenience store, Paulo, the owner, had long since given up on nametags for his employees. He had long since given up remembering the names of his employees…or even asking for them in the first place. The weekly visit he made to the store was usually peppered with a couple of head nods, finger pointing, and a "hey you" to indicate the initiation of direct conversation. Needless to say, Paulo the Owner (because Clarence really had no idea what the man's last name was) was not a very communicative fellow.

Anyhow, as for the matter presently at hand – the issue of the mislabeled nametag – there was a simple enough reason behind the whole thing.

Clarence hated his name. Absolutely detested it. And despite the best of his efforts, in his twenty-something years of possessing the aforementioned title, he had been unable to shorten it into something more pleasing to his tastes.

And he was doubly cursed with the fact that his parents had not bothered to adorn him with a middle name that, if he chose, he could use in the stead of the other. Lazy bastards, he cursed them on a regular basis.

Hence, Tom. Not that Tom was a particularly interesting name…but, actually, Clarence thought it suited him just fine. At least a lot better than Clarence. He _looked_ like a Tom…or a Ryan, or possibly a Steve.

Steve, the convenience store clerk.

Yeah, that was nice; had the right sort of ring to it. Except there was no nametag for a "Steve", so he'd settled for Tom.

He had no idea who this Tom – the original one – was, but the uniform Paulo had handed him the day he was hired, had come accompanied by the tag, still firmly set in place over the right breast pocket of the shirt. Sometimes, when Clarence was particularly bored, and had already thoroughly perused the latest edition of Guns & Ammo, he liked to drift off and fantasize about Tom. Not in a sexual way (although, he supposed, if he really got _bored_ enough…), but more along the lines of "what's he doing now?"

Had better things come along for dear ol' Tom? Was that why he'd left behind his burgeoning career at the Pit Stop? After all, Tom had been around in the days of nametags – or at least he'd been hired when nametags were still being issued – what more could a minimum wage employee ask for? Well…to raise the minimum wage, for one. Or to have some sort of body of authority that actually _enforced_ these standards. Or to find another job, _any_ other job, that failed to fit within that category.

Come to think of it, there was a lot that a minimum wage employee might ask for.

But maybe Tom had decided to set his mark higher – maybe Tom had thought he could make something of himself. Maybe he'd moved to L.A. to become an actor, or New York to chase his fancies on Broadway, or Detroit to revolutionize the automotive industry. Maybe he'd found the woman of his dreams and they'd run off to Vegas to elope, or to Maryland to meet her parents – blue-blooded members of the upper crust, who no doubt would look down upon Tom and his convenience store heritage, abhor the fact that their precious little Princess thought to marry such a rapscallion, no matter how pure his heart, or how very much in love the young couple were. Or maybe Tom was a forty-something year old perv fancying on their barely legal teenaged daughter, and they were simply trying to keep her from making the biggest mistake of her life. Or maybe there was no girl, and Tom had simply gotten drunk one night and fallen into an altercation in a local bar over the selection of music in the jukebox, which continued to escalate until he wound up bashing a man's head repeatedly into the aforementioned device, with Frankie Goes to Hollywood telling him to _relax_ over and over again as the c.d. skipped in place.

It was strange, but most of Clarence's fantasies tended to end on a violent note. It gave one pause to think.

A bell chimed – one that, once upon a time, when Someone Actually Gave A Damn, had been placed above the front door to indicate the arrival of a customer. Clarence shed a disinterested glance in the direction of the entrance, but immediately returned to his previous ponderings.

It wasn't until a shadow fell over the magazine he'd been staring at listlessly, and a low voice spoke, that his attention truly turned to his visitor…or rather, visitors.

"Excuse me. I was wondering if you'd seen this man pass through here recently."

"No. Sorry," Clarence answered without thought. His eyes had barely flickered toward the picture, hardly remaining there long enough to warrant proper consideration.

There was a pause, and the shuffle of paper as another picture was placed down next to the first.

"How about this young woman?"

"Nope," again, the answer fell from his lips dismissively.

The pause that came this time was longer, and the voice that followed still calm, but careful. "Try again, son. And this time, actually take a look at the pictures."

Annoyance clearly written across his face at being referred to as "son", Clarence looked up. "Look, I said I – "

The man who'd spoken was older, maybe in his fifties, and not particularly imposing. If anything, the real threat would have appeared to be the two silent figures with him, suit-clad, expressionless individuals that reminded Clarence of a bad FBI stereotype from a cop drama.

That was why he was so shocked when the first man reached for him, so fast he barely saw it coming. He had no time to comprehend what was happening until he found himself, face flat against the counter.

"Hey! What the – "

"Listen here," the man interrupted, his tone still not betraying anything. "I'm on a tight schedule, so I don't have time to waste on you. Look at the pictures again, carefully, and tell me if you saw either of these two come through here over the last couple of days."

There was a moment where the pressure to the back of Clarence's neck increased, and then suddenly it was gone. With the restraining hands out of the way, the harried clerk quickly pushed himself up off the counter and inched back as much as he could without appearing as if he were fleeing. Not that he didn't want to…but he doubted the move would be looked upon kindly. Clarence met the stranger's hard, dark eyes, and swallowed visibly. And when his glance slid past the other man, over his shoulder, he was not at all comforted by the sight of the two men standing a little ways behind him. Their stances were identical, and wary. He couldn't help but realize how easily a handgun could be concealed beneath those coats. And the fact that they'd never once introduced themselves, or flashed him badges of any kind, made him doubly uneasy.

Averting his gaze to the pictures, he studied the two carefully. One, the shot of the man, looked like something from a driver's license, or some sort of I.D. – too stiff and unnatural to be a casual shot; the one of the girl was just a sketch. Still, it was accurate enough, and he had no trouble placing the pair.

He had to swallow once more before he could answer. "Yeah. Yeah, just yesterday. Came through, bought a few things and left."

He might not have remembered them at all, if it weren't for those other two girls he'd had to listen to for a good fifteen minutes afterward, gushing on and on about how dreamy the guy had been. He'd been at his wits end, ready to tell them to shut the hell up or get out, when they finally paid for their magazines and drinks and left on their own.

"Which one?"

The words startled him enough that he glanced up without thought. "What?"

The unnerving eyes peered at him from the outwardly calm face. But there was something about it, a contrived sort of pleasantness that made Clarence lick his lips nervously before answering.

"Um, both."

"Together?" the man seemed mildly surprised.

"Yeah. Together." He shook his head and scrambled to disassociate himself from the pair, "I swear man, whatever they did, I don't know nothin' 'bout it. They just went along on – "

"That's fine," the man interrupted. "You've helped enough."

Clarence blinked. "Uh…okay."

The stranger turned to leave, "Thanks…" he squinted at the younger man's breast pocket, "Tom."

Clarence merely nodded dumbly.

The two silent companions each gave the clerk a final hard look before following the other man out.


End file.
